Blood Gifted
by Shikatanai
Summary: Harry and Sev will do anything to be together, even defy the Dark Lord. A scheme boosts Severus in the ranks of the DEs and allows the two to continue their relationship beneath the scrutiny of the Wizarding World. Includes gypsies, bards, slash, HPSS.
1. History Lessons

**A/N: **This is** the sequel** to Slow Dance, but you don't have to have read that one to understand this one. The only things you really need to know are that Harry and Sev are in an ongoing relationship and are currently engaged; Harry and Draco are friends; Ginny is very close to Harry, and is getting "close" to Draco; **and all these relationships have been well established by the** **previous story**.

**Special notes for this story: **I want to first of all beg humble pardon from anyone of Romani (gypsy) decent, because I'm about to mangle their history and lore. I did do some research on the Roms, so a lot of what I write will be as accurate as someone researching them on the internet can make it. A lot of it will be a load of BS, though, especially regarding their marriage traditions and the part about magic. Just so you're aware, though—I _did_ do research and I am _not_ claiming to be accurate. Have fun with it, because even butchered, Rom lore is fascinating.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, or anything associated with said trademark. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

_xxxxx_

The Genealogy of Magic

by Irilee Lacklustre

(pg 126)_ Blood magic distinguishes the old pureblood lines. The old, rare, innate talents are carried only in the most ancient and noble Houses. Each House carries one or two Blood Gifts that are passed down through the generations, father to son. There are twenty-three families in Britain who carry Blood Gifts in their veins. They are…_

(pg 153)_ The most powerful carriers of blood magic are the Romani tribe. A secretive, insular people, they have preserved their magic through rigid standards of marriage. No one knows precisely what constitutes an acceptable Romani spouse; all that is known is that only two Wizarding families have ever succeeded in marrying into the tribe. In the 1700s the Zabini family sent a daughter into the tribe, and three generations later a daughter of that union married into the Potter family. This was the second documented case of the Potter family forming ties with the Roms, though there are suspicions of several much earlier alliances that were mistaken for mudbloods or halfbloods._

_The talents these offspring carry are unknown, but the possibilities point to extraordinary magical strength, strong strains of rare gifts, and blood magic. Some documented Romani talents are Divination, Potions, and Bard Craft._ (for more information on Bard Craft see pg 1686)_ Romani bloodlines are also believed to carry traces of metamorphmagic and they produce at least one True Seer every other generation. Even more remarkable, they will produce a Blood Bonded Mage approximately once every six generations. Mages are both stronger and more common when a pureblood wizard is present in the bloodline. The child of the Potter family and the Zabini Rom was the strongest Blood Bonded Mage in recorded history. Although his children did not inherit the talent, genealogists believe the family still carries the potential, and it will reawaken when introduced to the proper series of catalysts._ (for more information on Blood Bonded Mages see pg 1712.)

(pg 1686)_ Bard Craft is a gift that is unique to the Romani. The method of this magic is a closely guarded secret and no one outside the tribes knows how it is done. All the Wizarding World ever sees are the results._

_The magic is spun through music and dance, and is a form of harnessed wild magic. It is mastered through the modulation of rhythm and sound, and the particular movements of the dance. Rituals and celebrations are completed this way. They will also perform for outsiders on rare occasions, and even Muggles can feel the building wild magic in the enthusiastic, wild movement._

_Blood Bonded Mages can use the magic built from the dance, when they are present among the tribe. The Bards themselves can also use it to replenish their personal reserves when there is no Mage present. This wild magic can also be used for raw magic such as fertility rites, wards, and extensive healing spells._

(pg 1712)_ Blood Bonded Mages are rare and extremely powerful. They are the only wizards capable of using both Dark and Light magic while remaining neutral. They have an instinctual control over wild magic, and can usually do wandless magic. They also have a limited immunity to certain magics as well, though the extent of this immunity has not been tested._

_Blood Bonded mages differ from pureblood wizards who are Blood Gifted. The Blood Gifted inherits a Wizarding talent that is carefully bred into their family lines. Although rare, a Blood Gifted child can be predicted up to two generations before birth, providing that certain unions are made and that a minimum amount of mudblood is present in the line. The Blood Bonded are unique to those with strong Romani blood, and are thought to be the Blood Gifted of that tribe. They are far more rare and more powerful, however, and if it is possible to predict their birth, the Roms do not share the secret. _

_The Blood Bonded are not technically wizards, though they are capable of doing magic through wands. The more powerful, subtle magic that is their birthright is the wild magic. Unlike Wizarding children, who loose the ability to do "accidental" magic around age seven, the Blood Bonded learn to harness and control the ambient magic through various means of spell casting._ (for more information on ambient and wild magic see chapters six, ten, and thirteen.)

_xxxxxxxx_

Harry sighed as he eased the large, musty book closed.

"Finished already?" Draco inquired drolly from the chair across the table. "I figured you'd give up. That book is dry, prejudice, and easily the most boring book Sev has in his Library. I _told_ you it was awful. I can't figure out why you picked it up in the first place. "

"To prove you wrong?" He grinned wryly, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"That's a really _dumb_ reason, Hex. There _has_ to be more to it than that. Not even _Granger_ would read that book without a great deal of persuasion."

Harry laughed softly as he re-shelved the ponderous volume. "You have a point." He was silent for a minute before looking back at Draco over his shoulder. "Hey Dray, did you know we're related? My father's mother's mother's father's mother was the youngest daughter of the second son of your family in a straight paternal line of succession to you."

Draco raised an aristocratic eyebrow. "Of course we're related, Hex. All purebloods are. The daughter you mentioned was permitted to make that alliance with a Light House because she was in no way connected to the Malfoy fortune, and new blood was needed to prevent inbreeding—which is why once every three generations the heirs are required to marry into a traditionally opposite family or a witch with between ½ and ¼ Muggle blood. It's also why no pureblood in their right mind has more than three kids, and even that's seriously pushing it. You'd go crazy from keeping track of the inter-marrying!"

Harry nodded slowly, frowning as he leaned back against the bookshelf. "I'd wondered about that, actually. I mean, with what old Voldie's trying to do. What about the inbreeding? I shouldn't be surprised that you already have a solution in place. I'm surprised the purebloods are going for it, though. I mean, they have to realize that if they kill off Muggleborns, eventually there will be no way to prevent the inbreeding!"

"Yeah, well, the Purists are leaning more towards breeding halfbloods for marriage to second sons, so that they have a cadet branch with new blood that they can shell out to the heirs of other noble Houses." Draco grimaced. "At least, that's what my mom favors. Lucius favors mass eradication, and screw the consequences. We can marry into old Wizarding families from other nations to open the gene pools."

"Breeding people?" Harry's eyebrows shot up, a horrified expression flitting across his face. "That's a horrid idea!"

"Yeah, well, it's not new. Dark families have been muttering about it for centuries, and every single Dark Lord to ever crop up has used some form of it as a rallying flag." Draco smirked. "I bet The Genealogy of Magic fails to mention _that_."

"Yeah, well, if it _does_ then I missed it. But then, I didn't read very much, and I'm afraid it isn't nearly as simple and straightforward as you, Dray."

"Is that an insult? Because I tell you now that I can give you five times the information in half the pages with ten times the clarity and not even put in effort."

"Could you now."

"You sound skeptical. What have I told you about doubting me?"

"Not to?"

"Exactly. I am the omniscient Draco—do not question me."

"Uh _huh_. So tell me, all-knowing one—what is the Malfoy Blood Gift, and do you have it?"

"Do stellar good looks count? Because that's certainly inherited, and I certainly have that in spades."

"_Dray_…"

"Hmph, be that way. Well, as far as I know the Malfoy Blood Gifts are immunity from memory charms and a natural talent for Occlumency, Legilimens, and mind control spells. My f…Lucius has a tiny bit more talent at it than most, and is convinced that he's Blood Gifted." Draco sneered, "He's not, though."

"Are you?"

Draco ran his hand through his hair in an absentminded gesture that he had picked up from too much time spent with Harry. "Hex, I was _bred_ to be Gifted. A professional genealogist sat down with Lucius's father and went through all the old families. My mother is five years older than my father, but her genealogy was a perfect match, and she had not as yet been promised to anyone. They got married when mother was thirteen and Lucius was eight."

Harry stared at Draco, mouth hanging open. "That… that's…"

"Medieval?" his friend questioned dryly. "Trust me, it's still a common practice among the older pureblooded Houses—and not just the Dark Houses! Your grandparents were married at eleven and fifteen. The only reason your father didn't get married so young was because he was the generation to marry muggle blood."

Harry whistled under his breath. "Wow, are you sure you haven't read The Genealogy?"

"Dork," Draco said fondly as Harry sat down on the table in front of him. "Pureblooded children are _expected_ to learn and memorize this information. If your dad was alive, he would've taught it to you."

"The Weasleys don't seem to follow this stuff…"

"Trust me, they do. Not to the extent that the Noble Houses do, but for the sake of survival they have to keep track of who is too closely inter-related with whom. They don't do arranged marriages, though, and their Blood Gifts turn up more sporadically because of it. Your friend Ron's got the Weasley Blood Gift for strategy, for example, but it's the first time in five generations that it's shown up. Ginny's got the Prewett Blood Gift of empathy, though it's pretty mild. Her mother has it too."

"Is that rare? That two kids in one family inherited Gifts?"

"Extremely rare—even more rare that a female inherited. Generally speaking, Blood Gifts only show up in males, and the females don't even carry the genes. If it weren't the Prewett Gift I'd say it was impossible, but their Gift is funny that way. The family tends to have one daughter every generation, and she'll have the gift every time."

"Well, if it's maternal, how do they keep track of it as the Prewett gift?"

Draco just shrugged. "We just do. And every seventh generation, the daughter marries back into the Prewett family to keep the cycle going. That would be Molly Weasley's mother, by the way, who married back into the family."

Harry shook his head slightly and stood, a bemused expression on his face. "Alright, I concede defeat. My head hurts. Let's talk about something a bit more light hearted."

"But I was just getting warmed up!" Draco cried in genuine horror. "We can't just stop there!" Harry raised an eyebrow and Draco pouted. "Fine, see if _I_ tell you more about the Potter and Snape family lines."

Harry immediately sat back down. "I was just kidding," he grinned. "This is fascinating. Keep going."

xxxxxxxx

Two hours later, Harry figured he might've made a mistake allowing Draco to continue. When another half hour passed and the blonde showed no sign of stopping, Harry decided that Professor Binns had finally met his match. _I wonder if Binns will ever retire. If he does, Draco really ought to take the position—he's knowledgeable, alarmingly so, and the first hour and a half are absolutely fascinating. Of course, _he amended wryly, _the following hour and a half get a bit old._

Harry did have to admit that he was impressed, though. Draco had been talking for nearly three and hours, and had yet to repeat himself, or even seem to scratch the surface of his wealth of information. _It _is_ extremely interesting. It's just so _hard_ to sit still…_

"…so the Snapes became the first Dark family to _ever_ secure a Romani bride. See, the Zabini family is neutral, and they married _into_ the tribe, which is completely different, because their daughter in essence became a Rom. The Potter family sent several scions into the tribe, and brought several others out of the tribe, which is highly unusual, considering the fact that the Romani generally don't want to have anything to do with the Wizarding World. No one is quite sure how this alliance was formed and maintained—your family is the only one in history to ever get close to the Romanis without actually being part of the tribe. There's even some speculation that the Potter family _is_ Rom, but broke away at some point in order to exist as part of the Wizarding World. Those who hold with the notion that the Potter line is heir to Gryffindor believe this happened when Godric—the first documented Blood Bonded Mage—agreed to co-found Hogwarts. I personally believe this theory, and I'm willing to bet ten galleons that if you approached the tribe, they would take you in a heartbeat."

"That's cool," came the absent reply. Draco had re-caught his attention by mentioning Sev's family, and as interesting as this information about his own family was, he wanted to know more about his fiancé.

Draco continued, too into the topic to notice his companion's growing restlessness. _He reminds me of Mione that way, _he thought, smiling fondly, _though they'd both be horrified by the comparison._

"…blood bride. When Sev's grandfather agreed to this as payment, he felt he was getting the better end of the deal. Darius Snape was sixteen—old for an arranged marriage—when he married the blood bride, who was twelve. He was still in school when Nadia gave birth to Sev, and he didn't see his son until Sev was almost a year old."

Harry's attention was once again riveted to what Draco was saying. He'd always wondered about Sev's family, but had never asked—it never came up, in the same way that Harry's life at the Dursley's never came up.

"From what I can understand, Darius was _not_ a nice man, and when Sev was six, Nadia left with her newborn daughter. She couldn't take Sev with her, because the blood price was basically to bear the Snape family a part-Romani heir. In the way of her people, however, she could and did take herself and the little girl out of his reach. Darius didn't really care, since he already had what he needed. He was hoping that Sev would be a Blood Bonded Mage, and from what Lucius used to say, he tried to trigger the catalyst by beating him. Instead, Sev inherited the Potions talent and a bit of Bard Craft, though I've yet to coax him to play or dance for me."

"I'll have to ask him," Harry smirked. _That explains how toned he is, and how damn flexible. He's so graceful; I bet he's an _incredible_ dancer…_ So Harry daydreamed, and Draco droned on.

xxxxxxxx

Fifteen minutes later, Sev entered the brightly lit center of the Library. He listened for a few minutes as Draco expounded on when in history Dark families married into Light families, and what usually came of their offspring.

Harry seemed to be indulging Draco in a characteristic show of Gryffindor heroics, but was obviously running out of steam. _I wonder how long Draco's been talking…_

Hiding a smile, he cleared his throat to announce his presence. Draco cut off with a scowl at the interruption. Harry launched himself off the table he'd been perched on and into his lover's arms, eyes shining with gratitude. Sev pressed a kiss against his temple, and Harry immediately turned to capture his lips hungrily. Moaning slightly, Sev pulled the younger man closer, one hand buried in the messy black hair, the other on the small of his back. When a cool hand found its way underneath his shirt, he growled and deepened the kiss.

"You know," came a dry voice from behind his lover, "we're in the middle of a bloody mansion. I'm sure there's _somewhere_ you two can…go at it without me…knowing."

Sev was extremely tempted to go find said spot, but he'd come for more reason than just to ravish Harry. Breaking away, they both laughed at the obviously uncomfortable (but valiantly trying to appear unruffled) blonde.

"No, I actually needed to talk to both of you."

Draco muttered something about the definition of talking, then leveled a mild glare at the smirking pair. "I imagine it's difficult to talk with your tongue down Hex's throat, so if you'll please get on with it so that I can go claw my eyes out, it would be much appreciated."

Harry snickered, but Sev just gave a short nod. "We—all three of us, Merlin knows why—have been invited to the Weasley's for dinner. I said we would be there, as it is a celebration of Miss Weasley's birthday, and you both seem inordinately fond of her."

"Tonight?" inquired Harry, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Sev nodded and Harry groaned. At his lover's questioning stare, he smiled ruefully. "I completely forgot it was coming up, and I haven't got her a present."

Grinning, Draco jumped up. "That's a cue to go shopping if I ever heard one!"

It was all Sev could do to keep himself from laughing evilly at what his boyfriend was getting himself in to. Draco was worse than a stereotypical female when it came to shopping, and he approached it with nearly the same zeal as he approached history. Knowing his godson as well as he did, Sev figured Harry had at least three hours of intense shopping ahead of him. Harry, of course, had no idea, and was shrugging his agreement to Draco's gleeful suggestion.

"Let me contact a few Order members," Sev cautioned as they began making plans. _He_ had no intention of being caught up in the nightmare that was shopping with Draco. "You two are both targets. You're perfectly capable of handling yourself while there, but I want backup present in the Alley should trouble arise."

"Yes Sev," they both nodded. Sev gave a ghost of a smile. Two years ago, Harry would be throwing a fit over having bodyguards. He'd matured a lot since then. Nodding briskly, he planted another soft kiss on Harry's expectant lips and headed towards the Floo.


	2. Family Time

**A/N:** My sincerest apologies for making you all wait. I had a bit of trouble with this chapter, but hopefully the length will more than make up for the wait.

I also want to apologize for the confusion caused with the first chapter. The whole "Hex" thing was very poorly addressed, because I intended to address it in _this_ chapter. (And have done so, never fear!)

I will **not** apologize, however, to the people who **failed to read the author notes** in the **last** chapter, and thus **missed** where I **specifically spelled out** that this is a **sequel** and that in the **prequel** I established the relationships that I'm building off of now. **These relationships were not formed in a vacuum**. They were well and truly established in the story Your Body is a Wonderland, which may be found under my author name. (Again, reading it isn't strictly necessary for understanding this story, but it is highly recommended. It's a quick read, at only eight chapters.)

**P.S: Ages as I've reckoned them:** Ginny (just turned)17; Harry (I skipped his birthday), Draco, Ron, Mione 18; Fred, George 20; Percy 22; Amélie 25; Charlie 27; Bill 28; Sev 37.

**P.P.S: Money: **In order to give some sort of basis for how much things are worth in my story, I'm going to say right now that 1 galleon 5 U.S. dollars. This isn't based off of canon or anything, it's just a number that I decided made sense, and you need to know where I'm coming from. I also apologize for not knowing how much that's equal to in any other monetary units.

**_

* * *

_**Diagon Alley was just as bright and bustling as Harry remembered. It was the middle of August, and everywhere he looked there were children bouncing around, shopping for school supplies. Absentmindedly rubbing the bandana that covered his forehead and hair, he nudged Draco in the side. 

"Look at them. Can you believe we were young like that once?"

"Hex, you were _born_ old."

Harry gave a slightly pained smile, then shook his head ruefully. "That's morbid, Dray."

"But true." The blonde—who was sporting sandy brown hair for the excursion—gave a dramatic sigh and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Ah well, Fate's a bitch, but we already knew that. Get your mind off of the wee kiddies, and back to what really matters."

"And that is?" Dark eyebrows arched over (currently) blue eyes, and Harry's mouth quirked up slightly in amusement.

"Shopping." The statement was so matter of fact that it was all Harry could do to keep from laughing at his companion—who would, of course, have taken dire offense and would probably have ditched him in retaliation.

"Alright, Master Omniscient. Where to first?" An evil smile was his only reply.

_**

* * *

**_Five minutes later, Harry found himself in Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, staring wide-eyed in the middle of the female section of the shop. He gulped slightly as a happily whistling Draco Malfoy cheerfully paged through the racks of clothing. 

"Well? What are you waiting for? There's more than one rack, you know."

"Er, yeah. Ok." Hesitantly, Harry took a step toward the rack on the other side of the isle. It seemed to loom before him ominously, and he had to fight the urge not to flee. _All right Hex, deep breath. You can do this. It's not like they'll bite._ Stealing himself, he plunged a hand into the wall of clothing, and forced the robes apart so he could take a look at them. He immediately yelped, jumping away from a garish pink monstrosity.

"What on earth… Hex, what the bloody hell are you doing? I told you to look! They aren't going to bite." Draco huffed in exasperation at his currently hyperventilating best friend, unconsciously echoing the other boy's earlier thought.

"It's _pink_ Dray! _Big_ and _pink_ with _bows_!" The whined plea sounded childish even to Harry, and he winced slightly. But he didn't retract the statement. It was true.

Glaring, Draco smacked Harry across the back of the head. "They're for _girls_ you dork! Of course there're some monstrosities. But there're nice ones too, and that's what we're looking for."

"Why?" was the petulant reply. "_Why_ are we looking through girls' clothes?"

"Because I intend to take Miss Weasley on a date in the near future, and I want her to have nice dress robes to wear. If I get them for her now, she can't feel bad that she can't afford them herself." Draco was already paging through the robes again, hemming and hawing over several sets.

"You sound pretty sure she'll say yes when you ask her." The statement was partly jeering and partly curious. Draco _did_ seem _awfully_ sure that Ginny would want to go out with him.

"Well of course," came the mystefied reply. "Why would she say no?"

**_

* * *

_**An hour and a half later, Draco sighed in satisfaction. Perking up slightly, Harry strolled over. "You found what you're looking for yet?" 

"Yeah," came the smug reply. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Uh, sure. Does this mean we can leave?"

Draco shot a dark look toward his companion. "_No_ we can't leave yet. I have three picked out, and I'm not sure which is the best. They'd all look stunning on her. Which do you think I should get?"

"That one," Harry said, pointing to one at random. He just wanted to _leave_.

"But why? I mean, I do agree that she would look divine in that color scheme and that cut…" Draco fingered the white velvet dress robes. It had silver trim and a sheath cut, designed for slim, fine bones like Ginny's. "But the red one would look just as nice." He held up the burgundy satin robes for his friend to inspect, enjoying the play of light across the fabric. "I mean, sure it's in Gryffindor colors, but it suits her complexion. And the cut, with its yards of extra fabric in the skirt, would accent her slim waist and bring out her subtle curves. On the other hand," here he held up the last set of robes, "this silk one would also look _really_ nice." The robes were a deep purple, almost black. The neckline was high and modest, but the plunging, open back and skintight cut left little to the imagination.

Draco Malfoy was, for once in his life, completely stuck in a matter of fashion.

And Harry Potter was going to kill something if they didn't get out of the bloody clothing store _quickly_.

"Look Dray, you're rich, right?"

"Of course," came the habitiually sneered reply.

"Then why not get them all? That way you can go on _three_ dates with her, and she won't have to wear the same robes."

Draco's face lit up, and he beamed at his friend. "Hex, if I wasn't straight, I would kiss you."

Harry snorted, swept the three outfits into his arms, and hurried to the front of the store. In his mind, they couldn't get out of there quickly enough.

* * *

"No, Hex." 

"But why not? She loves Quidditch!"

"And probably doesn't need yet another book on it. If you're going to buy her a book, put a _little_ more thought into it."

"But _Draco_… I'm sure she'd like it!"

"Ugh! We're leaving. I'm sure Granger will give her more than enough books for her birthday. Get her something original. You _are_, after all, her best friend."

The dark haired boy heaved a sigh, but allowed himself to be led out of Flourish and Blotts. _Well, there goes the idea of getting this over with quickly._

_**

* * *

**_

It took nearly three more hours before Harry finally threw his hands up in the air in defeat. They had been to nearly every store in the Alley, and had managed to buy a gift for Severus to give her, but nothing from Harry.

"Can't I just buy her a broom or something?" he whined, turning a pleading gaze toward his friend.

Draco heaved a sigh. "You know what, I'm beginning to really not care. Tell you what—one more shop. If we don't find something there, you can go buy her a bloody broomstick."

Stepping into the small, cozy shop, the two boys split up. Determined to at least make an effort at this last store, Harry began scrutinizing the various items on the shelves. Most of them seemed to be music boxes of some kind, though there was also a selection of delicate blown glass figurines.

Leaning forward to examine a pirouetting dancer, he had to suck in a breath at the sheer beauty of the tiny object. It was a masterpiece. All of them were, he noted with awe, turning his gaze toward a young couple slowly waltzing together to a melody only they could hear.

"Looking for something in particular?" a raspy voice inquired from his left elbow.

Jumping slightly, Harry turned to face the elderly woman standing beside him. "Er, not really. Just looking for something to give my best friend. She's coming of age today, and I want to get her something really special, but don't know what to get."

"Ah," the woman smiled. "Just listen for her music, Mr. Potter."

Harry gaped as the woman turned and limped away. _But… How did she know who I was?_ His hand darted up to his forehead, relaxing when he realized the scar was still covered. _But if it was hidden, how could she tell? _Slightly shaken up, he turned back to the shelves of boxes and figurines, eyes unfocused, not really looking at them. _And what was that supposed to mean, "listen for her music?" Is it some sort of unwritten law that old people have to give really cryptic advice?_

Still musing on what the old woman had said, he let his thoughts switch gears. If he didn't hurry up and pick a gift, they would be late to Ginny's party. But no matter what he'd told Draco, he really _did_ want to get her something special. He could give her a broom any old day. Today she would be seventeen, of age in the Wizarding World. That merited something special, something uniquely suited for her and her alone. Her laughter echoed through his mind, a sound that always reminded him of sunshine and cinnamon.

On the shelf, all the figures but one had stopped moving. A little girl sitting among the branches of a blown glass tree cocked her head to the side and smiled. She was being called. Leaping lightly down from her tree, the child walked forward, waiting to be noticed.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Harry refocused his eyes. The figurines had stopped moving, and seemed to be watching him. Slightly creeped out, he ran his eyes along the shelf until he saw a small girl. She waved at him, and he could almost hear her giggling. Carefully, he reached out to pick her up. She darted back into a tree, and he picked up the set. Looking for a price tag but not finding one, he decided he didn't care. No matter what, he _had_ to buy this for Ginny.

"I see you followed my advice. Not everyone does. It takes a special person, Mr. Potter, though I'm not surprised you were able. It is in your blood, after all. That comes to 96 galleons."

"Thank you, ma'am." He wanted to ask what she meant, but decided that he would most likely only get more cryptic statements.

"Any time, young man. Any time."

_**

* * *

**_

Severus sighed, glancing up at the clock. They had to leave for the Burrow in less than fifteen minutes, and the boys still hadn't returned from Diagon Alley. _I knew letting Draco go shopping the day of an event was a bad idea. Ah well, can't be helped._

Severus sighed, glancing up at the clock. They had to leave for the Burrow in less than fifteen minutes, and the boys still hadn't returned from Diagon Alley. 

Picking up a nearby magazine, he began to read an interesting article about a newly discovered property of peppermint in healing elixirs.

Severus sighed, glancing up at the clock. They had to leave for the Burrow in less than fifteen minutes, and the boys still hadn't returned from Diagon Alley. knewPicking up a nearby magazine, he began to read an interesting article about a newly discovered property of peppermint in healing elixirs. 

Five minutes later the fireplace blazed, and two bickering teenagers spilled out onto the hearth.

"..see!" cried the brown-haired boy.

"No," blue eyes narrowed, and the boy clutched the wrapped package closer to his chest. "It's a surprise, damn it!"

"But _Heeex_, you saw mine!"

"Stop whining and drop it already!"

Sev chuckled softly as he stood. "Give it up, Draco. Whining is not befitting of a Malfoy. Now go get dressed or we'll be late."

Pouting, Draco stalked off toward his chambers, and Harry sighed in relief, standing on tiptoes to give his lover a kiss. "Thank you. He's been whining since we left the store ten minutes ago, and it was beginning to grate on my nerves."

"Mmm. Now run and get ready, or we really will be late." Flashing the older man a smile, Harry darted off.

Ten minutes later, Harry and Draco came back down the hall, now looking like themselves. Eyeing them critically, Sev nodded his approval at their choices of attire. Harry had chosen an understated pale gray robe with darker gray embroidery and Draco was wearing an expensive black silk robe coupled with an emerald turtleneck that peeked above the high collar of the robes. Each boy was carrying a wrapped package, though Harry had two in his arms.

"You have an extra package," Sev noted out loud. "Or had you noticed?"

Harry grinned at his partner. "Well, we couldn't have you going without anything to give her! I bought something for her in your name."

Sev raised an eyebrow, lips curling in a sneer. "And what, pray tell, have _I_ selected as a gift for Miss Weasley?"

Harry opened his mouth, presumably to tell him, but Draco's free hand shot out and slapped itself over the dark haired boy's mouth.

"Uh uh uh! It's a surprise." Sev rolled his eyes and might've pressed the issue, but decided it wasn't worth it. They were already late, and it didn't really matter what the gift was. He was just glad his boyfriend had thought to pick something up. Opening the lid of the floo powder, he gestured for the two boys to precede him through the fireplace.

"The Burrow!"**_

* * *

_**

"…onagall didn't know what to think! I don't blame the woman, of course. Of all the things to put in hertea, I can't imagine…"

"…putting my foot down. I don't care what else you have to say on the subject, Ronald Weasley! No more se…"

"…extraordinary! And of course there's a library, Mione! It wouldn't be a manor without one. Even got some re …"

"…gulations that need to be made in order to preserve the integrity of the entire community…"

"…whose bloodlines are not to be crossed with those containing any traces of…"

"…temper on 'er, though. Worse than mum, I dare say—and mum doesn't shoot ten foot flames!"

Sitting around the table, a casual observer would probably have been a little overwhelmed by the cacophony of voices and the variety of conversations. Everyone shouted to be heard over one another and the scene was one of barely controlled chaos. Hands flew in wildly exaggerated motions, spontaneous laughter erupted, and nobody's plate was allowed to become empty. The mood was convivial, and Harry was ecstatic to note that even Severus found himself drawn in.

Fred and George, who had originally been a little nervous around their ex-professor, were now deep in conversation with him about the various ways to combine jasmine and powdered scarabs.

Charlie had used the occasion as the perfect opportunity to introduce his new girlfriend, apretty Frenchdragon breedernamed Amélie, to the family.

Bill had showed up, to his mother's shocked pleasure, with short hair. Instead, he now sported a well-kept goatee and a large tattoo. Molly hadn't been quite so pleased with these developments, and had actually burst into tears when her eldest son pulled off his shirt to show off the rearing sphinx spread across his back.

Ron sat beside Hermione, blushing as his brothers teased him about how close the two had gotten.

Harry and Ginny sat at the far end of the table, heads bent together, conspiring in whispers as they darted evil glances around the table.

Draco had managed to find company in Bill, with whom he was furiously debating the ethics of arranged marriages.

Eventually dinner began to slow down. Harry, completely stuffed with good food, groaned and leaned back. "Dinner was delicious, Mrs. Weasley! I ate so much, I dare say I'm in danger of exploding."

Molly beamed at the compliment as several others laughed. Sniggering, Ginny poked him in the side, and he flinched violently off the bench to escape her. Lying on the ground, he sighed with pleasure, ignoring the laughter around him. "Much better," he sighed, stretching out on his back with a relieved groan.

"I think Harry might have the right idea," Bill laughed as he stood. Stumbling around the table, he collapsed beside Harry, mirroring his stretched out posture. Soon the grass around the tables was filled with pleasantly stuffed and dramatically groaning young men. The women were all clucking and shaking their heads at the behavior, though Ginny looked very tempted to join her brothers and friend. Severus and Draco both looked on, mildly horrified by the display, though Draco, like Ginny, looked sorely tempted to join them.

"I think it's present time," Arthur announced abruptly, smiling at his youngest child. "Should we bring the gifts out here, or shall we move indoors?"

"Outside," Ginny replied immediately, laughing slightly. "We'd need several wheelbarrows to cart these goons inside, and I for one am not up to it at the moment."

Within moments, all of the gifts lay piled on the ground among the boys. Bill propped himself up on his elbows, grinning at his little sister. "Can I be Santa?"

Ginny snorted inelegantly, throwing an abandoned roll at her brother, hitting him in the middle of the chest. He picked it up, inspected it, and took a large bite out of it. Mouth still full of bread, he stuck a hand carelessly into the pile and drew out a large square package. "'o 'inny," he mumbled around his mouthful of bread, before swallowing noisily. "Love Ron's-Personal-Walking-Talking-Encyclopedia."

Rolling her eyes and laughing along with her guests, Ginny accepted the present. Unsurprisingly, it was books. Next came an even larger box, which Bill tossed carelessly at her. "To The-Imp-Who-Breaths-Ten-Foot-Flames, Love," here he paused to glare at Charlie, "The Self-Titled-Greatest-Brother-In-The-World-But-Who-Really-Has-Nothing-On-Bill," Bill paused in order to flash a charming smile at Amélie, who was looking slightly confused, and highly amused, by the Weasley family's antics. "And from Charlie's-Absolutely-Smashing-New-Handler-Who-Is-Hopefully-Keeping-Him-Apropriately-Whipped."

Laughing, Ginny tore open the paper, cooing at the gigantic stuffed dragon. Keeping the dragon close by, she accepted the next gift. "To our precious daughter, Love, mum." Inside lay a delicate silver necklace with an artfully wrought ruby pendent.

"It's an heirloom," Molly told her with a smile when Ginny began protesting the obviously very expensive gift. "Whenever the Prewett Daughter comes of age, she receives the Blood Stone from her mother. When your daughter turns seventeen, you will pass it on to her." Eyes glowing, Ginny wasted no time in fastening the necklace around her throat.

"To Miss Ginevra," Bill read out next, blinking at the use of his sister's full name. Shooting an amused glance toward the prim blonde, he fished around for an amusing title. "_Love_, Pompous-Git-The-Junior, Who-Might-Not-Actually-Be-That-Bad-But-Whose-Pretty-Face-Will-Be-Ruined-If-He-So-Much-As-Thinks-About-Touching-My-Sister-Becau—" At this point a brilliantly blushing Ginny snatched the box out of her brother's hands. All three females 'ooh'ed and 'ah'ed over the beautiful robes, and she shot an odd look toward the nervous blonde.

Before she could do anything more than say thank you, Bill was selecting another gift from the pile. "To She-Who-Sleeps-With-One-Eye-Open, Love, Your-Incorrigible-Brothers-From-Whom-You-Will-Always-Receive-A-Joint-Gift-Because-We-Only-Have-One-Brain-Between-Us-And-Are-Unable-To-Function-As-Separate-Units-On-The-Half-Brain-We-Each-Possess."

Expecting a selection of prank items, Ginny was slightly surprised when she lifted the lid of the box. Everyone else was even more surprised when Ginny blushed scarlet and slammed the lid of the box down, refusing to answer any questions about what it contained. Instead, she shoved it into Harry's hands and told him to banish it to his room in the manor, because she wanted it nowhere near her own room.

Curious, Bill pestered her about the gift until she threatened to remove him from the position of "Santa" and give it to Charlie instead. This, of course, caused the eldest Weasley to go on the immediate defensive, shooting playful death glares at his laughing brother. Giving up, he snatched a new gift from the pile, handing it to his sister.

"To The-Ideal-Daughter-That-Took-Five-Mistakes-To-Get-Right," here he was forced to duck a few more flying rolls from the five 'mistakes,' "Love, The-Bunny-Rabbits."

At this Molly turned a bright red and looked torn between scolding her eldest son and dying from mortification. After all, this wasn't what she wanted Amélie thinking their family was normally like! (Never minding, of course, that this _was_ exactly what they were normally like.)

Ginny suppressed her chuckles as she gave her mother a peck on the cheek, mollifying her somewhat. Opening the package, she was thrilled to find the new pair of dress shoes that she had been drooling over for the past three months. They were Muggle style dress sandals, with plenty of straps and three-inch stilettos. They were charmed to turn white, black, or silver at the wearer's request, making them very versatile. Beaming, she set them next to her new robes.

"To Ginny, Love, I'm-Not-Creative-Enough-To-Think-Up-A-Decent-Title-Despite-Family-Tradition-That-Has-Been-In-Place-Since-Dinosaurs-Roamed-The-Earth." Ron blushed slightly. He'd always been horrible at thinking up good titles to stick on the gifts. He was even worse at picking out creative gifts, and Ginny didn't even bother to open the card. She already knew that it would say her subscription to _Quidditch Monthly_ had been renewed. She hadn't had to renew it herself since she was eight years old.

"To Miss Weasley, Regards," here Bill cast a mischievous glance toward Severus, who glared at him poisonously. He was ignored. "Your-Ever-Beloved-Potions-Professor-Who-Is-Shag—" Blushing ever so slightly, Harry slapped a hand over the redhead's mouth. Smiling pleasantly at the glaring Potions Master, Ginny plucked the gift from Bill's hands.

"Thank you Professor, it really wasn't necessary to go to the trouble…"

"Nonsense, Miss Weasley. It was no trouble at all." Draco and Harry exchanged an amused glance, smothering their laughter. Really, it hadn't been any trouble at all for Sev.

Ginny giggled in delight as she pulled out the luxurious green and silver silk scarf. Sev raised an eyebrow at his boys, but refrained from comment. Without hesitation, and much to her brothers' mocked horror, she immediately wrapped the scarf around her neck and proclaimed herself an honorary Slytherin.

"Hmm, and now… To Her-Royal-Rebelliousness-AKA-My-Charming-Favorite-Sister, Love, The-Bestest-Handsomest-Mostest-Coolest-Brother-On-The-Face-Of-The-Earth-Who-Really-Deserves-To-Be-On-The-Cover-Of-Witch-Weekly-And-Who-So-Totally-Kicks—" Once again Bill was stopped by his exasperated sister. Beaming up at his "favorite sister," Bill watched in delight as she pulled out the two silver earrings he had chosen, both in the shape of fierce looking battle-axes. "They've got a piercing charm on them," Bill explained helpfully, ignoring his mother's horrified protests.

The axes immediately found their way into their new mistress's ears.

"And last but not least, To," Bill paused, blinked, then chuckled, shooting an amused glance at his surrogate little brother. "My-Favorite-Alcoholic-Beverage, Love, Hex." Ginny reached for the box eagerly, but Bill pulled it away. "Uh uh," he told her. "I've been wanting to ask this all night—why Hex? It makes no sense. 'Gin' I can understand. 'Dray' makes perfect sense. But '_Hex_'?"

Draco and Ginny exchanged amused glances, ignoring Harry's groan.

"Well," began Ginny, "Hex is funny about nicknames."

"If he likes you," continued Draco, smirking,

"He'll shorten your name."

"We wanted to"

"return the favor,"

"so to speak."

"But the name Harry," griped Ginny,

"is rather difficult to shorten."

"We tried several variations"

"on his actual name,"

"but they were all really"

"_really,_" Draco emphasized,

"dumb."

"Har and Ry were both"

"thankfully," inserted an exasperated Harry,

"discarded. But that"

"left us with nothing"

"to call him." Ginny paused, snickering as Harry threw in his two cents worth.

"You _could_ have simply called me 'Harry' like everyone else, you know. It already _is_ shortened—my real name is Harold. Nobody _asked_ you to spend a month analyzing me, trying to come up with a so-called 'suitable' nickname."

"It didn't take a month!" Came the immediate protestation from Ginny. "More like two weeks, wouldn't you say?"

"Mmm, two weeks. Three, max," agreed the blonde.

"Whatever. You still brought it on your selves. And what's with the completing each other's sentences thing? You've done it before, and it is severely irritating."

Ginny rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Anyway, as we were saying"

"before we were _rudely_ interrupted," sneered Draco playfully,

"We were a bit stuck."

"Then he tried to teach us"

"this really odd Muggle game"

"that involves yelling"

"Jinx!" cried Ginny, startling several people,

"whenever you say something"

"at the same time."

"Only Ginny here,"

"oh, sure, blame it on me…"

"Ginny here kept yelling 'Hex' instead."

"Draco thought it was amusing,"

"so I teased her mercilessly"

"until Harry came into the argument."

"After a rather convoluted series of"

"_very_ odd"

"conversations, Harry was"

"forevermore dubbed"

"Hex," they finished together.

_**

* * *

**_

After a bit more talking, Ginny remembered that she still hadn't opened Harry's gift. Looking down at it, she had to smile with amusement at the wrapping job. The paper, green and silver, was obviously pilfered from one of the men he was living with. Raising an eyebrow at him, he just beamed lazily. Chuckling and shaking her head, she tore into the gift with excitement.

Everyone knew that Harry was filthy rich. With the combined wealth of the Potter family and the Black family he could probably have bought the whole of England, and still had enough to live more luxuriously than the Malfoys. And this wasn't even taking into account the Snape fortune that would also be open to him when he married Severus.

Everyone knew that Harry didn't care about money. He spent it without even really thinking about it, because he never had any concept of money. Only that when he was little he had nothing, and now he had more than he knew what to do with.

Everyone knew that Harry loved his friends more than anything in the world (except, of course, Severus.) He would do anything for them, and would give up everything up to and including his own life if it meant keeping them safe and happy.

All in all, Ginny had every right to anticipate a truly remarkable gift.

When she unwrapped the brightly colored box with the wagon wheel logo, she gasped. She stared at the packaging, almost reluctant to find out what was inside. He had bought it from the old gypsy who ran the small shop at the very end of Diagon Alley, where it intersected with Knockturn.

Everybody knew the shop, and it was the only place that sold anything of "gypsy" make. Little trinkets and ribbons bought there were popular gifts to lovers, as they were rumored to carry gypsy magics to help or prevent conception, as personal whim dictated. There were all sorts of other little things sold there, each with a popular legend attached to it, though if any were true, the gypsies had never told.

The proprietress was called Madam Nightingale, though everyone knew this wasn't actually her name. She was an odd old lady, who was rarely willing to part with the _real_ treasures of her store.

Shelves holding glass figures and masterly crafted music boxes ran along one wall of the store. Artistically, each piece was a one of a kind masterpiece. Magically, they were mind-boggling. No one even knew all of the specialized magic imbued in any one piece, because each piece was different. They were easily as expensive as an above-standard racing broom, the type of thing one saved up to buy for years, then passed on to their children's children. They were also almost impossible to get your hands on. Madam Nightingale was very particular about who she sold her masterpieces to.

Ginny gulped. Knowing Harry…

She bit her lip. She couldn't get her hopes up—it was probably just some ribbons, or maybe a pretty necklace…

Hands shaking, she carefully opened the box and reached inside. She very nearly burst into tears as she lifted out the most beautiful figurine set she had ever seen. Carefully, she placed the tree on the table, watching in open-mouthed wonder as the little girl blew her a kiss and swung her feet from a tree branch.

"I hope you like it," a nervous Harry commented from the ground by her feet. "I thought of you when I saw it… If you don't like it, though, I can always buy you a broomstick instead."

Ginny could only shake her head mutely, as she was currently incapable of coherent thoughts beyond _ohmygodohmygodohmygod,_ which wasn't really all that coherent.

Leaning over her shoulder, Draco gasped as he caught sight of the blown glass tree. Whistling lowly, he shot an impressed glance over at his recumbent friend. "A Nightingale Masterwork—not bad at all, Hex. You outdid _me_, and that doesn't happen often."

"Does that mean I did well?" a hopeful Harry inquired.

"It means you did very well indeed."

Ginny nodded fervently, and continued staring at the little glass tree._**

* * *

**_

After cake had been served, the family lounged about on the grass. Even Severus had capitulated, and was now sitting primly cross-legged on the ground. He was valiantly trying to ignore the fact that his lover was draped across him, whispering things in his ear in an attempt to make him blush.

Sitting nearby, a wide-eyed Amélie turned to her boyfriend and his older brother. "Charles, zis has been bugging me all night. Who on earz are zey?"

The three members of the Snape household had come too late for proper introductions, and though they had figured out who Amélie was, she didn't have any idea who they were. She could tell they weren't Weasleys. Her boyfriend's family all sported vibrantly red hair. She knew she had been invited because she was _potentially_ family, and the little brown-haired witch was also potentially family. The other three…

She had been watching the two dark haired men with interest for the greater part of the night, because they both fairly reeked of strong personalities. The antics of the younger one had kept her entertained, and the biting comments of the elder had tickled her fancy. Up until now, however, she had assumed they were father and son. Cuddling like that, however, was not considered very paternal where she came from.

"Oh!" exclaimed Charlie in surprise. "I'm a terrible host, I should've introduced you ages ago!" Hoisting himself to his feet, he held out his hand to her. Allowing him to pull her up as well, he led her over to where the two were sitting with Ginny and the blonde.

The older one noticed their approach first, and acknowledged them with a nod. The younger one ignored them, choosing instead to focus his attention on his companion's neck. Amélie watched wide-eyed at the blatantly sexual administration. The others, however, didn't even seem to notice.

"May we join you, Professor?" Charlie inquired, waiting for approval before taking a seat on the ground in front of the man. He pulled Amélie down beside him and Bill, who had followed them over, took a seat beside his sister and the blonde.

"We aren't interrupting anything, are we?" quipped Bill, raising an amused eyebrow at the busy teen.

"Not at all," came the impassive reply from the older man.

"I wish you would," groused Ginny from where she was lounged with her head on the blonde's shoulder. "Hex has been trying to get a reaction from Professor Snape for over ten minutes now. It's getting me all hot and bothered," she huffed indignantly.

Amélie stared at her as the males—except the two dark haired ones—all blushed.

"Anyway," a pink Charlie inserted quickly, "I realized that I failed to introduce you three to my girlfriend."

"Really horrid of him, if you ask me," Bill said, frowning in an exaggerated fashion.

"Well no one asked you, you great lump." With a flourish, Charlie indicated Amélie. "This is Amélie Sansone. Amy, this Draco Malfoy," Charlie gestured toward the blonde, who scowled at the mention of his last name.

"Snape," he corrected grimly. "My name is Draco _Snape_."

Charlie waved his hand negligently. "Doesn't sound as cool," he informed the younger male. "And it isn't official. Therefore, you are Draco Malfoy." He turned to the other two, ignoring the muttering blonde. "This good fellow here is Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts." Severus gave a brief nod of acknowledgment, but said nothing. "The bloke doing a number on his neck is my littlest brother Harry."

Harry raised a hand and waved in their general direction, but didn't pause in his ministrations.

"He does not look much like a Weasley," Amélie commented in confusion.

"Of course he doesn't!" An outraged Draco cried. "Because he isn't really a Weasley." He stuck his nose in the air and sniffed. "He's a Malfoy. He just doesn't know it yet."

"I thought _you_ weren't a Malfoy anymore, though, Dray," shot an amused Ginny.

Draco shrugged. "Yes, well, if your brother is going to make _me_ be a Malfoy, then Hex has to be one too. I'd claim he was a Snape, but he isn't quite yet."

"And neither are you, but that doesn't stop you from claiming it."

"Ah, but you see, I'm Sev's godson and therefore it isn't all that big of a leap to claim to be his son. But Harry is my brother, and it just wouldn't be _right_ for him to also be Sev's son. Therefore, in _this_ instance, I am a Malfoy rather than a Snape."

"Ah yes, because it would be just wrong for your future mother to also be your brother," piped up Bill, eliciting a round of laughter.

Harry mumbled something from Sev's neck, to which the older man gently forced his head away with a chiding remark about not talking with one's mouth full. Glaring at Bill, Harry repeated himself.

"I'm not a female, thank you very much, and certainly not Dray's _mother_. For Merlin's sake, I'm six months _younger_ than he is!"

"Step-mother, then," shrugged Bill. "And it's my job to tease you—you're my baby brother!"

Harry scowled, channeling his inner Snape. "I am _not_ a baby."

Bill laughed, reaching over to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately. "You remind me of Arisha. She takes offense at that, too."

"Arisha?" Charlie asked, eyes sparkling with mischief. "New girlfriend, Bill? Thought you'd've given up on girls by now, with all your splendid luck."

Bill snorted, reaching over to smack his brother on the head. "Don't even, Charlie. I can still take you down, no problem. And no, she's not my girlfriend."

"You sound wistful," teased Ginny. "I take it that it's not through lack of trying on your part?"

Bill gave a melodramatic sigh, placing his hand over his heart. "Ah me, the arrow of cupid flies true—trust my little sister to catch it the first time I say her name."

"Bill," Ginny commented dryly, "this isn't the first time you've dropped her name. You've been nothing but 'Arisha this' and 'Arisha that' for the past _seven months_."

"Whoops," laughed Bill.

"So…" Charlie prompted. "You going to ask her out?"

"Nah," Bill sighed, this time looking genuinely disappointed. "She's been promised to some pureblood bloke since before she was born. Strictly off limits, and all that."

"Ah," Draco nodded in sudden understanding. "_That's_ why you're so against arranged marriages. I'd wondered."

Bill shrugged, then raised an eyebrow. "Of course, you're one to talk, Mr. Pureblood. Who are _you_ arranged to be marrying?" He surreptitiously sent a glance toward his sister, who was studiously trying _not_ to appear too interested in the answer.

"No one," Draco said firmly. "Even if I _had_ been, it probably would've been called off due to my…dispute with Lucius."

"Poor Pansy," Harry grinned, winking at a relieved Ginny.

"You're old to be single, though," Charlie stated, looking at Draco with interest. "I bet most of your friends are already married."

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm the unlucky bastard who has to marry a part-blood or a Light witch. I'm expected to stall as long as possible."

Harry schooled his face into a mask of innocence. "Don't stall too long, Draco dear, or as your soon-to-be parental unit, I might be forced to intercede on your behalf. Maybe talk Hermione's parents into a contracted marriage, or something."

Draco blinked, then immediately turned toward the amused redhead who was using him as a pillow. "I'm afraid I must be abrupt, Miss Weasley. I intended to do this in a much more romantic setting, but certain," here he cast a pointed look at Harry, "_events_ have led me to believe that I ought to move sooner rather than later." He cast a nervous glance toward the two eldest Weasley brothers, both of whom were regarding him with a strange light in their eyes, before gathering his courage to continue speaking. "I would be honored if you would consent to be my girlfriend."

"I ought to say 'no'," Ginny remarked dispassionately, "because it took you so bloody long to get around to asking." She paused, relishing the nervous, unsure look that flitted across her friend's face. "But I won't. I deserve a reward for my patience." Draco beamed, and she allowed a small smile to grace her own face before an evil look replaced it. "Yes, I definitely deserve a reward for my patience. You will be taking me to Stefen's for dinner next Saturday. Our reservations are at 8:30, and your 'parents' will be our chaperones, as they have reservations at the same time."

Her pronouncement was met with stunned silence, except Harry, who snickered slightly. "Been anticipating much, dear heart?"

"Only a little," she shrugged. "If he had stalled so long that we missed our reservations, I would've been _most_ displeased. It is very hard to get them there, you know. Being that it's the most popular,"

"And expensive,"

"venue in the Wizarding World."

**_

* * *

_Next Chapter: **Dinner Dates, Death Eaters, and enter Arisha Soravia! 


	3. Dinner Dates and Death Eaters

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long; busy doesn't even begin to describe my life right now. It was also a hard chapter to write, as it is pivotal to what happens later on. The Interlude at the beginning here is a treat for making you wait so long—it has little to do with progressing the plot, though it gives yet another look at inter-character relationships. (Which to me are more interesting than plot…) 

Anyways: Enjoy this chapter, and the next one shouldn't take nearly so long.

**

* * *

****Interlude: The First Night Home** **

* * *

**

Smiling slightly, Sev passed both boys small glasses of wine. They sat silently for a while, Harry curled up against Sev on the couch and Draco sprawled on the floor in front of the fire. It was a familiar scene for the three of them—they often spent evenings like this together in Sev's chambers at Hogwarts.

After a long silence, Harry stirred slightly, stretching languidly against Severus, who shivered appreciatively.

"I have gifts," he announced, though he showed no further inclination toward moving.

Draco perked up in interest at the word "gifts," though he, too, seemed reluctant to move from his comfortable place on the floor.

"I do too," he murmured, rolling over onto his back in order to look up at his godfather and friend.

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry groaned. "Do I really have to get up?"

"Yes!" Draco smirked at the same time Sev rolled his eyes and said "no."

Sev snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared. "Collect the gifts from each room, Pippy."

"Yes, Master!"

A minute later, six gifts appeared between the three men. Draco grinned when he saw them.

"Excellent!" Suddenly the blonde had the energy to move once more, and he made use of it to crawl over to the pile. Snatching a silver wrapped gift, he looked for the tag. "To my son, congratulations, Severus."

Beaming at his godfather, he tore into the paper. Inside was an elegantly cut black velvet cloak. Draco grinned ecstatically as he lifted it out of the box, then gasped as the satin lining caught the light and glowed blood red.

"Thanks, Sev," he breathed. "It's gorgeous."

"You deserve it," came the amused reply. "And every adult wizard needs a dress cloak—I believe you've just about outgrown your old one."

"Always practical," Harry laughed.

Still grinning, Draco carefully selected a green-wrapped gift. "For many years of admirably putting up with incompetent Gryffindors, Thank you. Love, Harry." Smirking at the typically sappy Gryffindor inscription, Draco handed the small package to Sev, who raised an eyebrow at the grinning Harry. Opening it slowly, he blinked at the small, rough stone. As he inspected it, it began glowing with blue runes. His eyes widened minutely.

"Is this a…"

"Containment stone," his lover completed cheerfully. "So next year's batch of Gryffindors don't cause any major bodily harm that might cause me minor irritation."

"Those cost an arm and a leg," Draco remarked, sounding a bit impressed.

Without a word, Sev leaned in to capture Harry's lips in a slow, burning kiss. After a few minutes of this, Draco coughed loudly. "If you two are gonna get on, wait for gifts, then get a room."

Pulling apart, Harry accepted a gift from Draco. "Despite great efforts on my part, you made it. Congratulations Little Snake. Sev." Smiling softly, still cradled in his lover's arms, he opened the silver package. Grinning, he pulled out a twin to Draco's cloak, though his lining glowed emerald in the light.

"I think you might've put the wrong tags on the packages." He stroked the green lining with an amused smile.

"No," Sev chuckled, carding Harry's hair with his fingers. "The green brings out your eyes admirably, and the subtle color of blood suits Draco's personality."

Harry laughed as Draco smirked by way of reply. "Next!" cried Harry, eyes shining.

"To 'Uncle Sev,' thanks for everything. Draco Snape."

Sev smiled minutely as he unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small black leather book embossed with a twining silver snake, reminiscent of the one curled around Sev's wrist. Opening the cover, Sev smirked at the inscription. "_Baxt hai sastimos tiri patragi,_" he read aloud. "Draco, where did you learn this?"

Draco shrugged. "Actually, I cheated. I asked Madam Nightingale when I bought the book what a proper inscription would be."

Sev nodded, eyes bright with a light neither boy recognized.

Opening to the next page, he watched the photo him swat Draco as the blonde tried to snatch his book. The next page was a picture of Harry curled up asleep in front of the fire, looking utterly adorable for lack of a better word. There were pictures of Harry and Draco wrestling and playing, of tender moments, and odd candid shots that left Severus curious about when they could've been taken.

Leaning over his shoulder, he saw Harry fling himself at the other teen. He suppressed a chuckle as Harry thoroughly hugged Draco until the blonde pleaded for air. Finally they settled back down, though Harry remained on the floor, draped over his friend.

"It is good, _nais tuke,_" Sev murmured. At the blank look from the two boys, he clarified, "thank you."

"Last but not least…" Draco began.

"Let's open them together! It'll be more fun that way."

Draco shrugged and picked up the green package. "Congrats 'mom,' Dragon."

Harry glared at the playful title and Sev had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his smiles. "To my little Dragon," Harry retorted. You've grown up so much. Love, Hex."

Draco sniffed pompously as the packages changed hands and both tore in with gusto. Sev had the unique opportunity to witness both boys' disgusted sneers at the sight of the elegant dress robes in the other's House colors.

**

* * *

**

_Baxt hai sastimos tiri patragi _a wish for luck and good health

**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Dinner Dates **

* * *

**

The ceiling at Stefen's was a high, vaulted affair that could only have been supported through a liberal application of magic. An enchantment similar to the one at Hogwarts gave the appearance of transparency, giving a beautiful—though obviously contrived— view of a clear star-filled night beneath a full moon. (As it was currently raining and a new moon, Harry could only guess that it was always like this, rather than reflecting reality like the ceiling in Hogwarts' Great Hall.)

Beside him, his little sister was gazing around, a look of cool disdain adorning her features. Catching his eye, she gave a little sniff and tilted her chin up. He coughed lightly to cover his laughter at her antics. She was currently wearing the red gown that Draco had given her, coupled with the Blood Stone from her mother. Bill's earrings had been replaced with small ruby studs, yet another gift from her new boyfriend. One hand played idly with her necklace, while the other rested lightly on Draco's elbow.

The youngest Malfoy—or Snape, as he preferred to think of himself—had much the same expression on his face as his girlfriend did, though his was more bored. After all, he really _had_ been to hundreds of places like this before, while Ginny was merely pretending. He was dressed to match his date, and was hiding his discomfort over the color scheme nicely. Privately, Harry thought the deep red looked rather good on the boy, but he wasn't suicidal enough to actually voice that opinion.

Sev was, as per usual, wearing black. This time, however, he had made a brief nod toward the concept of 'dressing to match,' and wore his green and silver accents gracefully. The robes themselves were much nicer than those he wore to Hogwarts. They were a thin silk materiel, tailored to fit him snugly. There was a band of green and silver embroidery at each hem on the robe, carrying a faintly serpentine pattern. His dark hair was pulled tightly into ponytail at the back of his neck by a silver knot work barrette. He looked, to Harry at least, dark, dangerous, and sexy as all hell.

Harry himself was dressed in a similar style as Draco, though his color scheme was distinctly Slytherin. The deep green robe was some sort of silk-satin hybrid that flowed around him like water. The collar was high and stiff with intricate silver embroidery. The sleeves were loose, but pulled tightly into heavily embroidered cuffs at his wrists. The cloth of the torso was tight, but not uncomfortably so. A stylized silver snake was slung low around his hips as a belt, and below it the skirt of the robes flared out loosely, making Harry feel as though he were wearing some sort of dress. The robes were finished off with more silver embroidery at the hem and silver slippers on his feet. (Of course, the slippers added insult to injury, completing the uncomfortable idea that he was made up like a girl.) Like Ginny, he had one hand resting on his partner's elbow. The other was currently toying with the long black braid that Sev had tricked him into. _Headache Drought, my ass,_ he grumbled mentally. _The bastard just wants to completely humiliate me by making me look like a girl. Dray will never let me live this one down._

Suddenly a gentle hand closed over his wrist, pulling it away from his hair. "That's quite enough," Sev murmured, dry amusement lacing his voice. "Remember what type of persona you are trying to project. You are above fiddling."

Heaving a silent yet heartfelt sigh, Harry glanced balefully at his fiancé. "You're getting a kick out of this, aren't you?" he pouted.

Sev smirked. "Now whatever gave you _that_ idea?"

Harry's scathing retort had to be bitten back, as the maitre de chose that moment to hurry forward.

**

* * *

**

"Excuse me!" Simion gushed, bowing apologetically. "We've been so busy, and you are early…" Nervous eyes flicked over the four, obviously quite wealthy guests, and he flinched inwardly. None of them looked like the type to tolerate waiting around, and he had a feeling that the five minutes it had taken someone to notice their presence was six minutes too long for their tastes.

The woman in the red dress looked at him coldly before turning to regard her escort. Simion's eyes flickered to her arms, and he paled at the sight of elbow length gloves. Only the pureblooded aristocratic women wore those anymore—and only for one reason. _And this is where we tread _very _carefully_, he gibbered mentally, finally noting that all four figures had carefully covered forearms and were all heavily cloaked despite the balmy summer night and the cozy warmth of the restaurant.

Bowing again and apologizing profusely, he waved frantically toward the cloak girl. Thankfully she was a well-trained little thing, and she followed his example of bowing before approaching the guests.

The first man allowed her to undo and remove his cloak, though he made no move to help her. Simion winced. _Just my luck—not only a Death Eater, but a bloody Malfoy to boot!_ The cloak girl handed the black and red cloak to the newly arrived house elf before moving on to Malfoy's companion.

The woman's hood was already thrown back, and Simion raked his brain for her name. It was part of his job to know the wealthy pureblooded lines by sight, and an aristocrat would be all a Malfoy would be willing to be seen with. He drew a blank as the girl removed the woman's cloak and moved on to the second couple.

Again, she moved for the male first, reaching upwards for the clasp. Simion winced again. _Bloody hell! A Malfoy _and_ a Snape. There goes my pleasant evening with no stress and lots of tips._

As the girl moved to the last member of the party, Simion felt his heart speed up. With the way his luck was going, he would have another known Death Eater on his hands, meaning that the Aurors who were currently dining in the restaurant would raise a fuss and disturb the peace. The black-haired woman waved the girl's hands away.

"I'll keep my cloak," she murmured in a husky alto.

_Oh. Shit._ Simion cursed. _Shit, shit, shit._

As quickly as possible, the four were guided to a recessed private booth with a gauze curtain obscuring the occupants and a carefully placed muting spell. Wine was brought quickly, menus were left, and Simion scurried off rapidly to warn the waiters. This group was to be treated _exceedingly_ well, even by their normally exceptional standards.

**

* * *

**

Finally left alone, Draco and Severus both began chuckling, and even Ginny had an amused grin as Harry threw back the hood of his cloak.

"I do believe they are under the impression that we _just might_ be Death Eaters," Draco drawled.

"Imagine!" Ginny grinned. "A _Weasley_ mistaken for a _Death Eater_! Whatever shall my brothers say?"

"It's your own fault for keeping such horrid company," Harry remarked as he gingerly picked up the menu.

"Yes, well, _you_ are the one who's really got them on their toes, love," commented Severus dryly.

Harry glanced at him curiously. "What makes you say that?" he inquired.

"Harry, as much as I love you, you can be extremely clueless at times. 'I'll keep my cloak' is code of sorts among the Dark Houses."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Sure. Code for _what_?"

Draco coughed and ducked his head as Sev smirked. "If you'd said it while your face was exposed, it might be taken at face value. Said while you were completely hidden, in the presence of two 'known' Death Eaters and an unknown woman, at a murmur…"

"It means 'I am a Death Eater of the Highest rank," inserted a snickering Draco. "And also implies that you have either escaped from Azkaban or are one of the Dark Lord's highly positioned spies—probably at the Ministry."

Ginny laughed as Harry groaned loudly. "You're joking, right?" he pleaded helplessly.

"Not at all," his fiancé reassured him brightly.

Harry groaned again, massaging his temples. "I just wanted to keep from being recognized," he complained petulantly.

"Exactly," Draco pointed out.

"I'd put the hood back up, Death Eater," smirked Ginny. "Here comes the waiter."

Harry was once again enshrouded in his cloak as the server waited patiently outside their curtain.

_**

* * *

**_

"Enter," a female voice called coldly from inside the booth. The curtain was drawn back, revealing the pleasantly blank face of one recently hired Terence Boot. He blinked in surprise when faced with the occupants of his booth. He'd been told to be exceedingly polite and give them every consideration. If they said jump, he was to ask how high.

Of course, Terry had been expecting a few well-dressed older gentlemen out for a business meeting—not two former schoolmates and an old professor with a mysterious companion.

"Er, Professor! Good evening, sir. Malfoy. Ginny."

"Miss Weasley," Malfoy corrected coldly, "and _Mr._ Malfoy, if you please."

"Yes, of course Mr. Malfoy," Terry stammered. "My apologies."

Malfoy nodded minsiculy in what Terry sincerely hoped was acknowledgement, and he breathed a purely internal sigh of relief. _It's just a summer job,_ he reminded himself sternly. _Only a summer job. Then you'll start that training program at St. Mungo's and the only time you'll have to deal with the likes of Malfoy and Snape is when they're dying or dead. Yes, that's it Terry—think pleasant thoughts._

He was admittedly somewhat surprised to find a Weasley keeping company with the likes of Snape and Malfoy—especially while the former was still her professor. However, he was hardly in the position to question the situation. Besides which, he remembered quite clearly the incident last year when Malfoy had sat down with Potter at the Gryffindor table for the first time. But now he was allowing his mind to wonder, which was certainly not a good thing.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked, carefully projecting calm and capable at the foursome at the table.

"Indeed, Mr. Boot," drawled his old professor—whom, Terry was shocked to note, actually looked quite clean and well-kempt and not at all out of place in the high society setting.

"I will have the roasted lamb curry and a soup, with a complimentary red wine."

"Excellent choice, Mr. Malfoy," Terry complimented reflexively as he made a few notes on his pad. "Miss Weasley?"

"Sautéed halibut," she replied after a moment's thought. "And a salad."

"Dressing, Miss Weasley?"

"Vinaigrette," she said decisively.

"Professor Snape?"

"I will take the seared orange duck, red wine, and soup."

"Of course. An you, miss?" Terry turned his attention to the cloaked woman in the darker corner of the stall, ignoring the blatant amusement the other three were valiantly attempting to choke back.

"My companion," the Professor began, drawing Terry's attention away from the rather fascinating figure, "will have the same as myself, but with a vinaigrette salad rather than soup." He paused, than continued, "and white wine, I believe." The cloaked figure made a gesture of agreement, and Terry nodded politely. "Thank you sirs, ladies. Is that all?"

"Quite," replied Snape.

Confidence somewhat restored, Terry gave a diffident nod before closing the curtain and hurrying away to fill their order.

**_

* * *

_**

As soon as the curtain wafted back into placed, three people burst out laughing as the fourth groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

"I'll never live this down, will I?" Harry moaned.

"Nope!" Ginny replied cheerfully. "This is definitely going into my personal anti-Hex arsenal."

"It's not all that bad," Severus soothed over their companions' continuing laughter. "It could've been worse."

"Should I even ask _how_?"

"He could've called you Ma'am."

**_

* * *

_**

Twenty minutes later, Terry was standing outside their booth once again, this time armed with their dinners. He carefully waited to be acknowledged before entering and passing around their meals. At the same time, he cleared away the dishes from the first course, using a practiced blend of magic and manpower in order to be as efficient as possible. After checking that everything was still in order and that there were no more requests, he bowed slightly and left.

"So how are you enjoying your summer thus far, Miss Weasley?"

"Quite well, thank you," Ginny smiled at the older man. "It's been nice having all my brothers around, though I'm glad for the chance to get away for awhile." She shook her head in exasperation. "For one thing, Bill can't seem to shut up about that bloody female friend of his. He sounds like a broken record and a lovesick puppy, always on about 'Arisha this' and 'Arisha that'."

Draco snorted slightly. "That woman who's already engaged?" He asked.

"That's the one," Ginny sighed mockingly. "I love my older brother to pieces, but honestly!" She shook her head and laughed. "How about yourself, Professor? How is life with two teenaged boys treating you?"

"Well enough," he responded gravely, "though it is a bit difficult keeping up with them. I'm used to spending quiet summers recuperating from noisome students—not entertaining the worst of them in my manor."

Beside him, Harry exchanged a raised eyebrow with Draco, who rolled his eyes at his godfather's complaints.

"Surely I'm not all _that_ bad," Harry commented dryly, fiddling absentmindedly with his braid.

"You earn your keep."

Harry's mouth gaped open at his boyfriend's bland statement, and he sputtered slightly as his friends laughed. He opened his mouth to retort when, yet again, he was interrupted by a shadow outside their curtain.

"Today is _not_ my day," he muttered, drawing his hood up moodily. "Every time I get a chance to say something witty, I get interrupted."

"Don't slouch," Sev scolded mildly in reply, ignoring the continued mutters.

"Enter," called Ginny after double-checking that Harry was covered and _not_ slouching around out of character.

It was, again, Terry Boot, who had this time come to inquire if they would like dessert.

**

* * *

**

Terry was finally beginning to relax again. The table wasn't nearly so bad as he'd thought it would be. Malfoy and Snape were surprisingly polite, though almost painfully formal.

"Would any of you like dessert?" A slight bow with a mild flourish indicated that he was ready to serve them if they so desired. Honestly, he half expected the Professor to wave him away. Or give him detention. For some reason, all night he'd been expecting Snape to give him _detention_ for interrupting. Oh the joys of the subconscious.

"Yes," replied the cloaked woman before any of the others had a chance to reply. Terry's attention snapped immediately to her, as this was the first time he had heard her speak.

"Ginevra will take the cheesecake," she began softly, voice lilting ever so slightly.

She had a beautiful voice, Terry decided. One made for sweet-talking. He was more than willing to take all the orders from her. One could find themselves falling in love with that voice alone…

"Draco will have marzipan, and Severus," Terry almost shivered at the way the professor's name rolled off the woman's tongue. It was positively indecent! _Lucky bastard—how on Earth did that greasy git manage to snag a woman like that? No one's going to believe this… Hell—_I_ don't believe this!_

"Severus would like chocolate cake. I would like Kailua and cream. Sound fine?" Terry got the impression she was sweeping her gaze around the table, though her head didn't move. Malfoy and Weasley both gave little shrugs, which Terry assumed were of approval.

The Professor, however, raised an eyebrow. "Chocolate cake?" he sneered in a voice that Terry recognized from years spent in a Potions lab with Hufflepuffs.

"Of course," the woman sounded amused. "Chocolate is an aphrodisiac."

Terry's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he fought valiantly to control the blush trying to rise. There were just some things you didn't need to hear in reference to your most disliked ex-professor. "Er, right," he coughed. "It'll only be a moment." The curtain fluttered closed once again.

Back in the kitchens, Terry splashed his burning face with cold water. Professor Snape and blatant sexual innuendoes just did _not_ belong together.

"Hey mate, you okay?"

Terry lifted his head to regard Marc O'Kelley, also a Ravenclaw, though from a year behind.

"Not really," Terry muttered, shuddering as he dried his face on a towel.

"Getting sick?" the younger boy inquired with concern.

"Worse," groaned Terry.

Marc winced sympathetically. "Tough table, eh?"

"You have _no_ idea," came the plaintive reply.

"Care to unload?"

Terry glanced about, then focused in on Marc. "Table number seven," he began, "is traditionally used for the really important guests—the ones who get the VIP treatment."

"Yeah…" everyone knew that.

"Well, since Brighid is sick today, I'm waiting her set—which means number seven."

Marc wrinkled his nose in distaste. Brighid was always complaining about the petulant, dirty old men who all seemed to get a kick out of sexually harassing the pretty blonde.

"Well, apparently perverts aren't the only ones who get to sit there."

Mar leaned forward in interest, and both boys failed to notice the overly interested waitress lounging a few feet away.

"Who?" Marc urged.

"Professor Snape."

Marc's eyes widened, and the waitress leaned in ever so slightly.

"Draco Malfoy."

Here Marc sneered and the waitress scowled faintly.

"Ginny Weasley."

"No!" gasped Marc, honestly surprised by that one. "You sure?" Terry nodded, and Marc let out a low whistle. "Never figured _her_ as the type…"

"Ah, but it gets better," Terry smirked, taking a somewhat sadistic pleasure in inflicting the horror of Snape and _that_ on someone else. Especially someone still taking classes from the man. "The fourth person is a heavily cloaked woman who's apparently _with_ the professor. They've been flirting all night." All right, so maybe that was an exaggeration on Terry's part, as he had no idea what they did when the woman wasn't sitting stock still in the shadows. It made more interesting gossip this way, though.

Marc blinked. He could've _sworn_ that Terry had just… But could… Really—Snape the Greasy Git _with _a living breathing human being? Albeit heavily cloaked, but still!

"Eeww!"

_**

* * *

**_

The waitress had heard enough. Smirking to herself, she grabbed a bottle of wine and moved toward a fairly secluded table where two men were having a rather pleasant conversation about whether Muggle Torture qualified as a sport or a hobby.

"Hobby," opined their waitress as she poured them more wine.

The man on the left sneered at her coldly. "No one asked you, bitch."

"Fuck off, McNair," she spat back. "I can find _other_ paths to send my information through, you know."

"That's what you think, little bitch," McNair snarled. "The Dark Lord would—"

His companion glared him into silence, turning to give the scowling waitress a polite nod. "You must excuse my…partner." He used the word cautiously, as though uncertain whether the term applied. "He is unused to dealing with well bred girls such as yourself."

McNair snorted and tried to interrupt but was once again silenced.

"It isn't like you to disturb Us unless you have news."

"Snape is here," she said after a moment's hesitation. "Along with Malfoy's traitorous brat, the Weasley broad, and a cloaked woman no one knows."

McNair seemed prepared to brush off the information with a rude comment, but his companion gave a slow nod. "You've done well," he praised. He covertly slid her a small bag of galleons, and she quickly hid them from sight. "Which booth?"

"Seven." He nodded his acknowledgement, and she hurried away. As soon as she was gone, he rose to his feet.

"Where you off to, Avery?" drawled McNair, lounging indolently in his chair.

"Following up a tip," shot back Avery, more than a bit annoyed at his companion's stupidity and laziness.

"Set up," McNair opined.

Avery shrugged. Unlike his companion, he knew the worth of this particular informant's tips. Like most in the service industry, people didn't notice her, which meant that she heard…interesting things. It also meant that money loosened her lips nicely, and a bit of attention had her willing to keep coming back with good information.

Reaching the cloistered booth, Avery frowned at the presence of muting spells. He was unable to hear what was being said as well as unable to see the figures, which meant he was unprepared for whatever he might find inside. With nothing to loose, he rapped sharply against a nearby bench to catch their attention. There was a moment's silence before an elegant gloved hand reached out to part the curtain.

"Yes?" inquired a cool feminine voice.

_Most likely the Weasley girl,_ Avery decided. _She certainly sounds as though she belongs among Slytherins,_ he noted with no little amusement. Curiosity aroused, he decided to take the polite route.

"Good evening," he smiled pleasantly. "I apologize for interrupting, but I heard my old schoolmate Severus was here, and I couldn't resist coming over and saying hello."

There was another silence in which Avery assumed some sort of conference was taking place. Then the curtains were drawn back and he was allowed to approach the table. Carefully he assessed the four companions.

He was amused to note that Weasley's gloves were elbow length, and he briefly wondered if she knew what they signified. He wasn't quite so amused to see the Prewett Blood Stone around her neck.

Malfoy seemed to be regarding him with neutrality rather than the expected hatred. In fact, observing the two teens together Avery was forcibly reminded that it was _this_ Malfoy's turn to breed Light. When Draco caught his eyes and gave a tiny nod, he almost smirked in glee. _Oh, here is a _true_ Slytherin… Lucius, you are an idiot to let such a treasure slip through your grasp._

Severus, he noted with vindictive pleasure, didn't look all that happy to see him. Then again, the dour Potions Master rarely looked pleased about anything, so his feelings weren't exactly hurt.

It was the man's companion, of course, who caught his attention. An expensive black cloak kept her face in the shadows. All he could see of her was the thick black braid over her shoulder and the delicate white hand that toyed with the stem of her glass.

"Avery," acknowledged Snape stiffly.

"Ah, Severus, don't be like that!" Avery gave him a pointed look. "You'll make me wonder if you Know your Friends." It was a not-quite subtle reminder of the bond both men carried on their arms. The other man grimaced, but didn't reply. "Won't you invite me to sit down?" Avery inquired, rather enjoying himself.

"No," snapped the Potions Master. "Say your piece and leave."

"Just as much a bastard as always, eh Snape? Some things will never change."

"Unfortunately," grumbled the other.

Avery smiled and shook his head. "Now, now, Severus, be nice! And do introduce me to your companions. I must meet these hardy souls who are able to tolerate your presence in large doses."

"I'd be better impressed were they to tolerate yours," he shot back silkily, posture changing subtly as he took control of the situation.

_Shit,_ thought Avery. _Shouldn't've given him that._ Sometimes it was damn hard to remember that this passionate and petulant man was also one of the slipperiest bastards around. Of course—that was part of what made him so slippery: the forgetting.

"You are already acquainted with my godson, of course; Draco Malfoy."

"Of course," smiled Avery, reaching out to shake the boy's hand. Again, gray eyes met brown in amused acknowledgment of similar values, and the boy gave him a tight nod.

"Pleasure as always, Mr. Malfoy."

"And you, Mr. Avery. I apologize for my rudeness in remaining seated, however…"

"No matter," Avery waved him away, inwardly quite pleased to find the boy had a proper set of manners. "It's quite alright, and I _am_ disturbing your meal uninvited."

He turned to smile at the red-haired girl, and Draco stepped in to complete the introductions. "This is my girlfriend, Ginevra Wesley," he inserted smoothly.

Avery nodded, having already guessed as much. "A pleasure, Miss Weasley. I've worked with your eldest brother before, and he speaks quite highly of you."

The girl gave him a cool smile that let nothing of what she was thinking leak through. _Damn, she's good,_ he marveled. _Malfoy might even pull her Dark, if he's half as good as his father. I hadn't realized that a Weasley could be so calculating. Pretty little thing, too. The boy made a good catch—hopefully his father didn't do too much damage. With his actions so far, I'd say he's still well on our side, but one should never underestimate a Malfoy._ That was one lesson a person only needed to learn once, as it tended to be both painful and humiliating.

He turned his attention to the _interesting _one. Severus seemed disinclined to divulge her name, so Avery pressed. "And your friend?" he inquired pointedly.

"My chaperone." The reply was, surprisingly, from the Weasley girl, who was watching him with cold eyes, gauging his reaction. "As well as the Professor's companion."

"I'm pleased to meet Miss…" he trailed off expectantly, becoming rather annoyed with the obvious reluctance to part with information.

"Soravia," supplied Weasley after a moment. "Arisha Soravia."

Avery nodded. "A pleasure, Miss Soravia." Another silence, then, "Have you known Severus long?" More silence, and Avery grew irritated. Honestly, the nerve of some women…

"She's not allowed to speak," Malfoy said suddenly.

Avery's eyes snapped over to him, and his brow shot up. "A silent woman?" He asked, causing the Weasley girl's eyes to narrow. The others remained impassive. "Some chaperone."

"Oh, she can speak in private," Malfoy clarified airily, "but it would be highly improper for her to speak in public, especially around a gajo man before the contract was set."

Avery's eyebrows shot even higher. _A whatta-whatta?_ Malfoy gave him a slightly amused look, which only served to further irritate the older man.

"She's Romani," he clarified kindly. "And Severus's blood bride."

It took all 37 years of intensive pureblood training to keep a somewhat neutral face. Romani… Blood bride… No wonder she remained silent and cloaked! And no wonder her companions were reluctant to say anything. If Severus had somehow gotten a contract with his mother's people for a bride, then he probably wasn't too happy with Avery for ruining what was, most likely, his first meeting with the woman.

Avery stared slightly gape-jawed at her—the first gypsy he'd ever seen himself, unless one counted that old hag in the Alleys.

"Very sorry," he mumbled, blinking wildly. "I, uh," he coughed, trying to regain control of his facilities. "Apologize for interrupting. Very rude of me. Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley. Miss Soravia," he fervently hoped it was not a grave insult for him to say her name. It would be just his luck if she took offense. "Severus."

He turned and began walking away, then paused. "And Severus," he glanced over his shoulder, "Congratulations. I do so look forward to sharing the good news with our Friends."

With that, he returned to his own table, where he flatly refused to share a word of what had transpired with McNair. No… This was to be his pleasure, and his alone. Oh, rich would be his reward.

**

* * *

**

**A/N:** Not quite the entrance you were expecting for Arisha, I imagine. One must wonder what she'll think about her name being used like that… Ah well, if _Bill_ thinks so highly of her… (I love Arisha, just so you know. She's a lot of fun.)

**On the use of Avery:** I needed to have a discussion with a Death Eater, and honestly chose Avery pretty randomly. He was one of the DEs who remained free from Azkaban, and he's canon. I wanted to show here that not all Death Eaters are idiots. Many are, after all, Slytherin—meaning cunning and ambitious. Of course, you also have your lazy, stupid Death Eater in the form of McNair.

**On Harry being mistaken for a girl:** All you can really see of him is the cloak and the skirt of the robes, which by themselves are both fairly unisex. Simion assumes he's female because he's Sev's companion with long hair—and remember that my Harry is very small; smaller than your average girl. Harry is also a tenor, and is speaking softly—he's merely taken as an alto. (An honest mistake that has happened to one of my friends before.) And, of course, people see what they expect to see. They expect a woman on a gentleman's elbow—not another guy.

**Next Chapter:** Sev explains himself to Voldemort, and Harry has a conversation with Dumbledore.


	4. Confusion

**A/N:** I apologize for the wait. Hopefully you will enjoy this latest installment in the saga, and that the next chapter will not be so long in coming. Until then…

I have used several phrases from the site http/ www2. arnes. si / eusmith / Romany / and fervently hope I made no mistakes. Other than the few phrases that fit in well, the Romani tongue will be indicated by **bold lettering**. Hopefully there won't be any confusion… Translations for the used phrases are located at the bottom of the chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Four:** Si khohaimo may pachivalo sar o chachimo.

* * *

Harry paced restlessly around the sitting room in a rather ineffective attempt to use up his overabundance of nervous energy. He knew, vaguely, that his actions weren't helping the others at all. The tension wound tighter and tighter, as the silence became more and more oppressive. 

"Will you cut that out?" Ginny finally snapped, eye twitching as she tried to curb her own anger and nervousness.

"Oh, let him pace – he's less liable to blow something up," Draco snapped snarkily in his defense.

"Well _I'll_ blow something up if he keeps on," she snarled standing abruptly in a swirl of red silk.

Draco opened his mouth to snipe back at her, but Severus stepped in. "That's enough. We're all on edge." He was surprisingly calm, though Harry's practiced eye detected lines of tension in the stiff back.

"What are we going to do about this mess?" Ginny asked tightly.

"We'll roll with the punches. Adapt. It's a Slytherin trait." Sev turned to face Draco, a no-nonsense look on his face. "It's getting late. Draco, escort Miss Weasley to her home and attempt to salvage your date. Miss Weasley, you must talk with your brother as soon as possible. It is too much to hope for that this woman will be unknown to all the Dark Lord's followers if she is, indeed, engaged to be married to a pureblood heir. I would like to meet with Miss Soravia to explain what happened as soon as possible."

Draco and Ginny both stood, silently approaching the fireplace. With a nod of acknowledgement to his godfather, Draco Flooed first, followed quickly by a still uncomfortable Ginny, but one who now burned with a purpose. Severus and Harry were left alone. Sev didn't allow the tension to build this time, and simply swooped in to gather his fiancé in his arms. It was scant comfort, but it was something.

"What'll happen now?" Harry's voice was muffled by Sev's shoulder, but was still easily understandable.

"Now we play damage control," Sev sighed. "Avery won't go immediately to the Dark Lord – he will wait for a normal meeting. He is, in essence, giving me the chance to come clean by myself. That," he pointed out darkly, "will put me somewhat in his debt. He will be using the time however, to begin gathering intelligence about this woman, which will hurt us. I _need_ to speak with her."

"What about me?" Harry inquired restlessly. He hated doing nothing, especially when the situation involved him intrinsically.

Sev pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Sleep, if you can. In the morning you'll go have a conference with Dumbledore. If we're lucky, he'll be able to think of something."

Harry nodded his head, but made no move to leave his lover's comforting embrace.

* * *

Draco looked around the dimly lit Weasley living room. If he hadn't already been so uptight, he would've been extremely amused by the fact that Ron and one of the twins had apparently attempted to stay up for Ginny, but had fallen asleep on the couch. As it was, he noted that they were there and promptly forgot about them. 

He caught Ginny as she fell – gracefully, Draco noted detachedly – from the fireplace. She flashed him a tight smile and hurried straight for the large grandfather clock. Coming up behind her, Draco was impressed to see that it was a Family clock. Of course. Trust the Weasleys to have one single expensive magical item in their house, and have it be a clock.

Bill was _Out._ Ginny scowled at the useless information. "Out _where,_" she snapped in irritation. After a brief shimmer, the clock corrected itself. Now Bill was _at the Leaky Cauldron with a lady friend._

"Nice clock," Draco commented from behind her.

She shrugged. "It's old. Nice personality, though – helpful." Turning back to the fireplace, she threw him a wry glance. "If we're lucky, his 'lady friend' will be Arisha. Merlin knows no other woman will stand his presence long enough to earn that term."

"Shall we?" Draco gestured expansively toward the fireplace.

"Might as well," she shrugged, gathering Floo powder. "The sooner we get this taken care of, the better."

Bill grinned at his friend and partner, raising a glass of fire whiskey in an ironic salute. "There is always that," he laughed in agreement.

Arisha's laughter was more contained, and somehow infinitely more proper – yet still relaxed and full of life. That was one of the things that made her so enigmatic to him. She was so very proper, yet not proper at all. It was as though she had figured out the secret of the letter of the law while completely ignoring the spirit of it.

"Of course," she fluttered long black lashes at him, "You admit I am always right."

Studiously ignoring the flutter in his chest, he gave an exaggerated snort. "Right. If you say so. And who was it who said we should hang right in the Pharaoh's Temple?"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," she retorted airily, studiously looking away from the redhead.

Bill laughed again, taking a mouthful of whiskey. "Right, Ari. Whatever you say."

"Precisely," came the satisfied reply. Bright ebony eyes focused back on him, and he was forced to look away. Why in Merlin's name did she have to be already engaged? She was without a doubt the single loveliest woman he had ever met. At least, he thought she was. He had to admit that her features were really not all that extraordinary. Her face was all rounded angles, with too large eyes and a sharp nose. Her black hair was tied severely back in a waist-length braid, a brightly colored shawl covering her head.

And yet, despite the fact that – looked at objectively – she was simply pretty, her bright smile and unique personality made her extraordinary.

Bill took another gulp of his whiskey. He really needed to stop mooning over his best friend. It was unhealthy, especially because he knew she could never return his feelings. After all, for all her scorn for tradition, she was surprisingly adamant on her upcoming marriage.

"-ill? Bill?" His head snapped back up, and he re-focused on a concerned Arisha. "Are you alright, Lolo?"

Bill opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by yet another female calling his name.

"Bill! William Weasley, where are you!"

Bill's head snapped around, and he stared at the scowling girl by the fireplace. His sister was dressed like – he cringed to even think the comparison – a pureblood Dark wife. Deep red silk and elbow length gloves just screamed 'I don't belong here.' Her companion looked even more out of place, as he actually was, more or less, the pureblood Dark wizard he appeared to be.

"Over here," he called, waving slightly. The two noticed him and came striding over, ignoring the jeers from drunken patrons. He watched in bemusement as his sister and her (boyfriend? companion?) stopped in front of their table, looking highly agitated.

A moment of awkward silence passed, before a foot to his shin reminded him that he really ought to make introductions. He shot a glance at Arisha, grateful that she didn't believe in sharp-toed high heels.

"Um, right. Ari, this is my sister Ginny and her friend Draco. Guys, this is my partner Arisha."

The expression on Ginny's face was strange, and she seemed to be staring at Arisha as if the other woman had all the answers and if she looked hard enough… What was most disturbing, however, was the look of dawning recognition on the face of one who could not have met the other.

"This might work out," she breathed, hand grasping her blonde companion's arm tightly. "Draco, we might pull it off!"

Draco just looked uncomfortable, and he patted Ginny's hand as if to say 'that's nice dear, you're hurting me.'

Bill blinked a few times. "Uh… Anyone care to explain for the uninformed?" he inquired blankly, gesturing absently at Ari and himself.

"Yes, yes, of course," Ginny nodded. "Would you mind coming back with us? I'm so sorry to disturb you, but there's an emergency." Fidgeting, she added, "It's Hex."

Bill stood immediately. There was little that would cause him to cut short an evening with his best friend, but a family emergency was enough. And Harry – or Hex, as his sister preferred – certainly counted. "Sorry, Ari," he looked at his friend apologetically. "Maybe next week?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but Ginny talked over her. "Please Miss Soravia; we'd appreciate it if you could come too. It involves you."

The woman nodded slowly. "Of course," she murmured. "It is not a problem at all."

As all four made their way back to the fireplace, Bill completely missed the look on Draco's face as he finally caught on to what Ginny had already seen.

* * *

Severus sighed with relief as his fiancé was finally convinced to retreat to his room. It had taken what might be considered heavy bribery, but it had been necessary. Now, to think of what to do. Or, more precisely, what to say to Arisha Soravia once they actually managed to get a hold of her. With any luck, she would at least be willing to give them enough information to convincingly pull it all off without anyone – namely himself – dying in the process. 

As he tried very hard not to contemplate death by Dark Lord, a body tumbled gracefully into his living room. The blonde popped to his feet in time to catch the lanky redhead from tripping over the high marble hearth. Next came Ginny, somehow managing to be somewhat graceful, despite the harsh travel. He expected no more, and was thus very surprised as the fire roared again, and spat out a fourth figure.

She had her back to him as she brushed soot off her sturdy Romani style clothing, her long black braid swinging under the bright green shawl she wore over her head and shoulders. And then she turned around, and his heart stopped.

He was looking at Harry. A Harry with round, feminine features, a hint of feminine curve, and eyes as black as his own. A Harry who was not – could not – be Harry at all, because he knew quite well that he had only just sent Harry to bed. He knew this had to be the fabled Arisha, and for the first time he leant credence to the tales that told how closely the Potters were actually related to the Roms.

"This is Arisha Soravia," Ginny introduced. The tone of her voice told him she saw exactly what he saw.

"Droboy tume Romale," Sev murmured, nodding his head slightly, desperately trying not to stare.

She looked at him with pleasure, though without surprise. As though she fully expected him to greet her in her own tongue.

"Nais tuke," she replied, her own nod precisely the depth of his own. It struck him as a bit odd. After all, as a woman in that culture, she should've been raised with far more respect for a male, let alone an older male.

"Kaski san?" He asked curiously. She only gave him a mysterious smile, making no move away from her place by the fire.

"I believe it is more pertinent to ask why you have need of me," she commented softly, her husky alto tugging at him. It was Harry's voice, softened into something feminine, but still Harry's.

"I…" he trailed off, then coughed. "That is, we…" he trailed off again, staring at her strangely. To his surprise, she had the audacity to laugh at him. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he glowered at the chuckling girl-Harry. "There was an emergency," he grated out, "And Miss Weasley pulled a Gryffindor."

Said Weasley scowled, but Arisha quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "You say this as if should mean something to me," she smiled faintly. "I am afraid you must explain further."

"Your name was used in conjunction with mine." Severus strained to keep a blush from staining his cheeks. The way the not-Harry woman was looking at him made him feel very much out of sorts, and very, very off balance. He hated being off balance, especially in his own home. "You were named my blood bride, in front of a man who – if this deception is discovered – will have me tortured to death."

The woman blinked, then had the audacity to laugh. "And what do you expect of me?" she finally enquired. "What is it you think I can give to you?"

"Your forgiveness, first off," a frowning Bill Weasley inserted from beside his sister. "That was extremely wrong of you, Ginny."

Ginny scowled back at her brother. "Shove off Bill. A Death Eater was eyeing us all up. I did not particularly want to die, nor did I wish to witness my friends and family die."

"My forgiveness is not needed," Arisha inserted softly, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Though I give it freely if you ask."

"Information might be helpful," Draco inserted quickly. "Names of those who know you. The name of your betrothed, especially."

"Now hold a sec!" Bill was glowering now. He was ignored.

When Arisha hesitated a moment, Ginny gave her an encouraging smile. "Please, Miss Soravia. We just need honest answers."

"Si khohaimo may pachivalo sar o chachimo," she murmured softly.

Sev blinked at that. "Try us," he commanded gently.

She laughed, and this laugh he could not differentiate from his lover's in the least. It was the same, and it played with his heart. How could this woman… This stranger… Be so like his Harry without actually _being_ the boy?

"Tachiben… A-ko isi pomoshinav tumen," she smiled wistfully. "Rom Romensa, yes?" A pregnant silence filled the room. "Me som tutti rat bori," she whispered finally.

The silence that fell was thick, as Severus stared at her almost without seeing her. The others stared in curiosity, unable to understand everything that was going on. Bill had picked up a word of two over his time with Ari. Enough to recognize the words "truth" "Rom" and "blood."

"I, I don't think… I… _What did you say?_"

Arisha looked at Severus, something strange gleaming in her eye. "Me som tutti rat bori," she said curiously, as if intrigued by his reaction. "**I am your blood bride, Severus,**" she murmured in their shared tongue. "**Your mother and my father agreed upon it as soon as my coming was known to the tribe.**"

"**You don't understand,**" he replied shakily, staring at a spot a little above her left shoulder. **"I am already promised. I myself made the oath to take another as my own.**"

He forced himself to meet her eyes, and was taken aback by what he saw there. Devotion, love, and strangely enough, pride.

"**I know,**" the strange girl murmured, taking a few steps closer. Her left hand reached up to brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, and Sev's eyes grew wider, then narrowed into hostile slits.

"**Where did you get that?**" he hissed angrily, taking three angry strides forward, snatching the hand up to inspect the ring on her finger more closely.

"**Don't touch me,**" she replied mildly, snatching herself back. "**I do not particularly like the being marime.**"

Sev stared at her, a mixture of anger, confusion, and trepidation in his eyes. He felt as though he'd been thrown into some sort of magical universe where everything was a breath away from what it ought to be. For the first time that he could remember, he felt truly and utterly lost.

"I…"

Bill seized the opportunity to intercede, stalking forward until he reached the Roms. "Could one of you _kindly_ inform the rest of us what is going on here?"

Severus opened his mouth to answer, then shook his head. He didn't really understand either.

"It's nothing, Lolo," Arisha told him, smiling at the tall redhead. "In fact, why don't we call it a night. You and I work in the morning, and it is getting quite late. If I am not home within the quarter hour, I will suffer a tongue-lashing from Rosien."

"But," Bill began to protest. He was cut off as Arisha breezed past him to the fire. Turning, she looked Severus straight in the eyes.

"**Have your little friend ask the graybeard about the letter. It will make things clear to you. Until we meet again,**" she smiled, bowed her head, and disappeared into the flame.

Still looking lost, Bill followed, intent on questioning his friend in depth about the evening revelations – or frusterating lack thereof.

Ginny and Draco immediately rounded to pester their own half of the answer, but he had already left. He had every intention of spending the rest of the night staring into the fire in his lover's chambers and drinking something powerful. He did not want a clear head to deal with what the infernal not-Harry woman had said.

* * *

Ginny turned to Draco, raising an eyebrow at her boyfriend. "Right," she commented dryly. "Did that go well?" 

"I'm…not really sure," returned a frowning Draco. "I couldn't understand what they were saying, and their body language was… contradictory. Everything about her seemed to scream 'I will help you with every breath in my body,' yet Sev was clearly as lost and confused as we are. Or even more so, oddly."

The girl sighed heavily, shaking her head. "I'd give a lot to know what was said tonight."

"As would I," the blonde murmured, staring blankly at the place his godfather had stood not long ago. "As would I."

* * *

**A/N:** Right. So, I'm sure some of you are wondering what on earth I'm smoking. Nothing, I assure you. I apologize againfor the wait, and I'll try to get the next chapter out faster. I know precisely where the story is going, but it's taking time to flesh out my ideas. (Not to mention the distinct lack of time involved with faulty computers and college work.)

* * *

Lolo: Red (This is Arisha's version of the nickname Bill's co-workers in Egypt use) 

Si khohaimo may pachivalo sar o chachimo: There are lies more believable than truth

A-ko isi pomoshinav tumen: Maybe I can trust you


	5. Letters

**A/N:** See, I don't always leave you waiting for months. This latest installment was fun, and it basically wrote itself. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did.

One thing I want to warn you about ahead of time is the name switches. The name used to refer to any one person switches with the POV. For example, Albus Dumbledore considers himself 'Albus,' while Harry considers him 'Professor Dumbledore.' Same thing with petnames – I just don't want my readers getting confused. I do know what I'm doing (most of the time) I promise!

* * *

**Chapter Five:** **Messages**

* * *

Harry groaned as he fought off the lingering traces of Dreamless Sleep. Slowly the details of the disastrous evening came trickling back, and Harry groaned for an entirely different reason. Rolling over with the intention of burying his head in his pillow, he was surprised to see he was not the only occupant of the large bed. He blinked and stared at his lover. When had Sev climbed in? Or, more accurately, fell in. He was still fully clothed from last night. He hadn't even bothered to remove his shoes! 

Harry leaned forward with a puzzled smile. "Sev?" he murmured, reaching out to touch the man. Severus slept on, and Harry frowned in worry. Sev might not be a morning person, but he was an extremely light sleeper. "Sev?" he asked again, leaning over to get a look at his face.

The smell of alcohol was strong, and he reared back as if struck. Face pale, Harry slipped out of bed and headed for the showers, noting the empty whiskey bottles by the fire with contempt. His shower was longer than normal as he subconsciously tried to will Severus up and out of his chambers before he was done. Or barring that, the man be awake and sober. That would be nice.

Finishing his shower and getting dressed, he came back out into the bedroom. Severus was still out cold on the bed. Harry knew the man would have a hangover the size of a hippogriff, but he wasn't feeling charitable enough to make any allowances. Alcohol was a vile substance, and everyone knew how he felt about it, even if he never verbally expressed himself. He was okay with a small glass of wine at dinner, or even a small mixed drink. But drinking to get drunk…

He'd had one too many run-ins with a drunken Vernon Dursley. The man never hit him when he was sober, but inebriated he was free to carry out his heart's desire. Thoughts of the Dursleys only served to put Harry in a worse mood. Not only had his date turned out horribly, he'd been drugged and his drunk fiancé had crashed in his bed. And now, now he was thinking about the horrid relatives that he'd finally escaped.

Severus Snape was _not_ in an enviable position.

"Severus!" When his only answer was a pained groan, his frown deepened to a glare. "Severus Olarion Snape, you wake up this instant," he snapped angrily. The man really should be glad he wasn't cruel enough to turn the lights on. The thought had certainly crossed his mind.

A string of incoherent grumbles met his ears, and he turned his glare up a notch. "I don't know what in Merlin's name you thought you were doing, but if you _ever_ come to my bed in such a state again, I swear I will castrate you and damn the consequences." This particular threat had something more of a reaction, as Severus tried to sit up and was hit with the full affects of several bottles of alcohol. Moaning and clutching his head, he fell back onto the bed.

"I…ouw…urgh." Harry made no concessions. Even if he'd had a hangover cure, he wouldn't have given it over. Severus should know better! He waited for the moaning to subside a little.

"I'm going to have that chat with Dumbledore," he informed the other man sharply. "By the time I get back, you had better be sober, clean and _extremely_ apologetic." Turning on his heel he marched toward the door, only to be stopped by Severus's pained call.

"Letter… ask…letter."

Harry stared back at Severus, a mixture of contempt and confusion on his face. Finally he swept the rest of the way out of the room and down to the fireplace. It was time he did his part of damage control.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was a firm believer in summer break, vacation, and getting away from work. He felt that to be productive during the year, one must take the time to enjoy life. Of course, when one was orchestrating a war, summer break could be a little difficult to squeeze in. Oh, he'd managed, of course. A nice trip to France three weeks ago had done wonders for him. He pointedly ignored the fact that the reason he'd gone was to negotiate war help from the French Minister and his Head of Defense. 

Either way, it had been nice to get away from the familiar – and much beloved, he hastened to insert – confines of Hogwarts. He was back home now, scrambling to get the last bits of everything put together. For one thing, he still did not have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He wasn't too very worried; the spot always seemed to take care of itself, despite carrying the curse.

So, he chose to more or less ignore the dilemna in favor of sifting through letters full of pleas for helpor stubborn skepticism.

One letter fit into neither category, however,and sat in his desk drawer, weighing heavily on his mind. It was the strangest of letters, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Soon he would have to contact the true recipient of the message, but he'd let the boy have a bit of a break himself, first. Harry really did work too hard for a person his age.

As if summoned by the thought, Harry's head appeared in the fire. Smiling happily at the boy, Albus hurried out from behind his desk to speak with his young friend.

"Professor Dumbledore, good morning!" Albus could see traces of worry and anger in the boy's face, despite his growing skills in hiding hisemotions.

"Good morning, dear boy. What is it I can do for you?"

"I was hoping we could talk, actually. Do you have time now?"

"I always have time for you, Harry. Come through, come through!" Stepping away from the fire, Albus returned to his spot behind the large desk. In a moment Harry Potter stepped out of his fire, calmly banishing the soot from his clothes. Albus smiled at that. He knew for a fact the boy hadn't known to do that before this summer.

"Now, what can I do for you?" _Hopefully something,_ he added mentally as Harry began to pace restlessly.

"Headmaster, we have a slight problem."

_I can see that._ Albus nodded graciously, continuing to follow the boy's progress with his eyes.

"Sev, Dray, Gin and I went out last night," Albus's eyes sparkled with joy, despite the tension in the air. It was so good to hear that they were happy and getting along. "Near the end of dinner, Avery approached our table." At this, the budding happiness was cut short. A Death Eater? He fervently hoped no one was hurt. He'd have thought they would've contacted him earlier if that were the case, but the possibility couldn't be dismissed…

"At first it went fine. I think he and Draco were speaking some sort of freaky Slytherin/Dark Wizard language, because I swear; if he wasn't an evil git he would've been beaming at Dray like he was an especially clever little boy."

Albus was tempted to feel worried about this. He had never quite understood Harry's sudden and complete acceptance of the Malfoy boy after six and a half years of being enemies. Harry, however, didn't seem to give it a second thought, so he reluctantly let it slide.

"Merlin only knows why, but he seemed pleased with Gin, too." Muttering aloud, the boy suddenly stopped pacing, whistling under his breath. "Maybe…" he trailed off, then flashed a bright grin at Fawkes, who had been watching his restless progress with something akin to amusement. "I get it, now!" he proclaimed, then returned to his nervous pacing. Apparently he wasn't going to share his 'ah hah' moment with Albus.

"So anyway, things were going fine until Avery started asking about me." _Well, of course,_ Albus thought as he nodded sagely. _It's little wonder he'd ask why the Boy-Who-Lived was dining with two Slytherins._

"I was disguised, of course," Harry ran his hand through his hair, and for the first time Albus noticed that it was pulled back. Not only that, but that it was braided. He couldn't tell how long it was, however, as it disappeared down the inside of Harry's voluminous cloak. That was interesting. He didn't remember the boy having long hair last time they'd spoken.

"So, anyways, he wanted to know who Sev's _companion_ was." Suddenly a distressed expression passed over his face, and he turned to Albus with a slight whine. "They all thought I was a _girl_ professor! They all kept calling me _miss_!" Albus gave him a benign smile, keeping his laughter tucked away inside for now. He'd laugh _after_ the emotion-ridden young man left.

Harry heaved a sigh, then returned to pacing. "In the end, professor, it all boils down to Ginny and Dray's fast thinking. In order to protect me, they used another person's name and culture to cover for me. Now we're trying to figure out how to salvage the situation without Severus getting…" he trailed off in distress, finally collapsing into one of the seats in front of Albus's desk. Seeing that it was safe now, Fawkes glided over to alight on the boy's shoulder. Soft trills filled the room as the two men considered the situation.

"It seems to me, my boy, that the first order of business is to talk to… whoever's name you've borrowed."

Harry nodded slowly. "Sev's already working on it. I think he might even have talked with her last night, but I didn't have the opportunity to ask."

Albus let the sour expression and odd statement slide. No doubt tension was running high in the Snape household at the moment, so it really was to be expected. "Can you share the name?" he inquired kindly. "That might help me."

"Oh!" Harry looked startled. "Arisha. Arisha Soravia. She's a Rom," he added in after thought.

_One of the Romani? A coincidence, surely!_ Albus thought, startled, eyes darting to the drawer that held the odd letter.

"Sev said something this morning," the boy was deep in thought, and appeared to be thinking aloud. "Something about a letter." He turned to look at Albus, confusion written on his face. "He said something about asking about a letter."

Albus slumped back in his seat. So maybe it wasn't a coincidence after all. "I got a letter a few days ago," he began slowly, reaching to remove it. "It was from someone calling himself Rom Baro Veshengo. I will not bore you with the details of the letter, but he claimed you as kin. He went on after the claim," Dumbledore opened the letter in order to read straight off the page, "'_The son of James is a man now, and soon comes fully into his gifts. If he is not trained soon, they will eat at his guts until Kali claims him.'_ Kali is a deity," Albus inserted, glancing over at Harry.

Harry was staring at him unblinkingly, shock clearly written across his features. "It continues, '_My kumpania extends a hand of welcome to our lost son. When he is ready, this token,'_ this one here," Albus held up a small bronze amulet, "'_this token will bring him Home._' It goes on to explain the activation process."

"I…" Harry was at a loss for words. He was a Rom? Briefly he thought back to the Genealogy Incident with Draco (was it really only a week ago?). Draco had told him then that he wouldn't be surprised if the Romani would be willing to offer Harry sanctuary. But requesting his presence? That was… Almost too much to believe.

Albus watched him over the top of his glasses. The boy was clearly in some sort of shock at the revelation – as well he should be. Even Albus had been taken aback by the forwardness and audacity of this Rom Baro. Of course, Romani culture was one thing the Headmaster could claim little knowledge of.

He'd approached them in the first war for help, but they had laughed him off. It was no concern of theirs, they informed him. The Dark Lord knew his place. He knew the dangers of attacking the Romani, and wouldn't dare risk it. They were a powerful people, separate from both the Muggle and Magical worlds. They were a nation spread across the face of Europe and beyond – no one but they themselves knew their true power and strength.

"I believe the offer is sincere," Albus finally offered gently. "The Romani are a neutral nation, and I have no idea why they pick now to help us. What little I know of their culture, however, leads me to believe that this letter is genuine, and you would be well protected with them. Trained, too," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I… I don't know quite what to say. I suppose I should go," Harry mused, absentmindedly stroking Fawkes. "I wonder what sort of gifts they're talking about. I wasn't aware I had anything beyond the normal."

If Albus was anyone else, he probably would've snorted his disbelief at this statement. Harry Potter, an average wizard? The idea was quite laughable. "I have no doubt you have inherited many Gifts we are not aware of," he said dryly. "I encourage you to accept them on the offer." _This may just be the leverage we need to get them to join our fight. If they were on our side, there is no way we could fail._

Silence spread between the two men, both pondering the consequences of the letter. The only sound was the content trills from Fawkes, who was quite enjoying Harry's preoccupied attentions.

Finally Harry stood, careful not to dislodge the phoenix on his shoulder. "I'm going to call home," he announced, striding over to the fireplace and kneeling down on the hearth. "Snape Mansion," he called, throwing in a handful of powder.

* * *

Draco had stayed up with Ginny into the wee hours of the morning. They had come to no real conclusions, and had spent most of the time in silence, basking in the comfort of the other's presence. Near dawn she had returned home, leaving Draco to stare into the fire, too tired to even worry anymore. 

At some point he must have dozed off, because he was jerked awaked by the sound of his name being called. He shot up, and stared at the head floating in the fire. Rubbing his eyes, and giving his head a quick shake, he crawled over to sit in front of the flames.

"Hex?" It was definitely too early for him. "What's going on?" Why hadn't he just walked down from his room to talk?

"Listen Dray, I'm at Hogwarts right now."

"Mmm, that's nice."

The head in the fire rolled its eyes. "Yeah. Just… I'm going away for awhile. I promise to be back in a few weeks, but… This is important."

If Draco had been more awake, he would definitely be alarmed by that statement. He would've insisted to know exactly what was going on and what precisely Hex thought he was doing by just waltzing off without an explanation.

But lucky Harry, Draco was still quite asleep. "M'kay."

Harry watched Draco with concern, then dismissed it with a shrug. He'd always known the other boy was a bit 'special.' "Tell Sev I love him," he instructed as his head disappeared from the fire.

Draco nodded even though there was no one to see him. Then, after a moment of staring at a now empty fire, he retreated back to the couch. Soon he was in a deep, much needed sleep. For now, his message was shelved in the very back of his mind.

* * *

"I'm ready," Harry informed the Headmaster, as he stood up. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of the whole situation, but he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Along with getting his much needed training, it probably wouldn't hurt to see if he could find out more about that mysterious woman whose name they had 'borrowed.' 

Dumbledore nodded gravely, handing over the little token. "The activation is 'thank you.'"

Nodding, Harry gave him a half smile. "Thank you," he said ironically.

Nothing happened.

Dumbledore frowned, muttering about poorly made portkeys and what might have gone wrong. And what they could do to amend the situation.

Harry beat him to it with a sudden flash of insight. "Nais tuke," he laughed as the familiar sensation of a hook behind the navel whisked him away. _Merlin, I hate portkeys,_ was his last thought before his world turned upside down.

* * *

**A/N:** Surprise? Next chapter will feature Harry being pulled into the Romani culture, and finding out precisely who Arisha Soravia is. Expect some major plot twists coming up over the next few chapters. I intend to do my best to keep you on your toes.

* * *

Rom Baro – Big Man, the title for the chief of a band of families (which is also known as akumpania). Veshengo is the name of this particular Rom Baro. 


	6. Of Music and Gender Roles

**A/N: **Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean for it to take me so long! This chapter was a bloody pain to write, let me tell you. I hereby command you to enjoy it and make it worth the frustration.

Just as reference, Harry still has that braid Sev gave him a few chapters back. It hasn't disappeared or anything - I just haven't bothered to mention it because it hasn't beenrelevant.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Of Music and Gender Roles**

* * *

The camp was bustling and full of life. Women in brightly colored skirts laughed and talked together while little children ran about doing small chores. The men stayed predominantly on the other side of the camp, going about their own daily routines. They too chatted amongst themselves, laughing and interacting. Some men had a boy or two following him around, learning his trade. Mostly it was his own sons, though others drifted over sometimes as well. The older boys, however, stayed in one spot, diligent in their learning. 

Nadia smiled from where she sat, weaving the tough grasses into sturdy baskets. This was her heart's home, here amongst the bustle and cheer and camaraderie. With her brother, his family, and her own beautiful daughter. With her fine, strong son-in-law, and her three boisterous grandchildren. Her eldest granddaughter, Tsura, was sitting with her now, learning to weave the baskets that were crucial to both daily life in the camp and to their income from the gadje.

"Puri daj?" Nadia looked down at the little girl who had been trying to get her attention. "Puri daj, is this right?"

"Yes, chey," she smiled, inspecting the girl's basket. It was rough, but serviceable and plenty good enough for holding clothing or bedding. "Very good. You must keep practicing, and one day you will be able to weave baskets like your puro dat weaves stories."

The girl's black eyes sparkled as she returned to her task with a vengeance. Nadia couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at the girl's eagerness. Her diligence was commendable, and rare in someone so young. Nadia credited the girl's auntie, her brother's youngest charge. The girl had a way with children, inspiring and encouraging them in truly amazing ways.

Arisha was away now. She was completing her practical training by working closely with a group of wizards and goblins. The entire kumpania missed her presence, but none so much as her own family. The girl had been a ray of light for them all as she had embarked on her training. For the first time their revels had been in earnest, and their dancing carried magic. That first year especially had been a time of laughter and joy and magic.

Soon, the old woman thought, black eyes blazing with glee. Soon the phoenix will dance again.

"Dya! Dya, it's time." Nadia looked over and smiled as her daughter hurried forward, a large basket clutched in her arms. "It's finally time, dya!" Her eyes were bright as she passed her load to Nadia.

Tsura stared at her mother, a little frown furrowing her brow. "Time for what, dya?" she asked curiously.

* * *

Harry groaned as he stumbled to his knees. He really _really_ hated portkeys. Standing shakily, he looked around himself. Trees, trees, trees and, to provide a little variety, a few more trees! 

Not exactly what he had been expecting.

Where were the people? The wagons and horses and camaraderie from Sev's stories? Where, especially, was this Rom Baro who had requested he come? _A trap!_ screamed Harry's mind. _A trap all along, and I played right into it. _

Wary now, he crouched slightly, prepared to move at a moment's notice. His wand found its way into his hand without him needing to consciously draw it. Suddenly the trees felt sinister. Anything could hide in the dense forest, and he wouldn't know until it leapt out at him.

A flash of blue caught his eye and he spun around, wand stretched before him and a curse on his lips. An older woman in a blue headscarf and bright yellow dress leaned against one of the trees. A large woven basket rested at her feet, and one eyebrow was raised. She gave a quick, mocking applause.

"Paranoia is one thing we don't need to teach you. Good."

"Who are you?" he asked, not dropping his battle-ready stance.

"Drop your wand 'Arry, it won't do you any good here. If I planned to attack you I would've done it while you were still disoriented from the portkey."

"Who are you?" Harry asked again, suspicion screaming through him. "How do you know my name?"

"You may call me puri daj. And is there anyone in your world who doesn't know you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed at the phrase 'your world.' Sure everything he'd heard pointed toward the Roms being a community, a 'world,' unto themselves. Still, it was disconcerting to have a person who radiated an inner magic pointedly dissociating themselves from the Magical World. Because it was obvious to Harry that it was intentional.

"Point," he conceded, still wary.

"Come, chiavala. We won't get anywhere if you refuse to trust me. Put down the wand. Besh. I will explain some things to you." The woman came closer, then followed her own advice, sitting fluidly on the grass ten feet from a tense Harry Potter.

Slowly Harry joined her in sitting down, but he kept his wand out and at the ready. He was willing to listen – that's what he came here for, after all – but he wouldn't willingly disarm himself for a stranger. Just because she didn't look like she could put up much of a fight didn't mean she couldn't easily wipe the forest floor with him.

"Good. Droboy tume Romale." The old head bobbed slightly, then black eyes were once again boring holes into confused green ones. Harry remained silent, wondering what she had said. He had some idea of the language, thanks to Sev – not enough, apparently.

"The response is 'nais tuke,'" she informed him dryly. "As you are here, I gather you know what that means. Let's try again. Droboy tume Romale, 'Arry."

"Er, nais tuke." After barely a moment's hesitation, he added, "puri daj."

The woman gave him a sharp, calculating smile. "You are here because you need training if you are to destroy the beng that seeks to devour your world. We called and you came, because we can give you that training."

"What training?" he asked curiously. He already had some training. Sev hadn't let him go long without, especially after his mind could be hidden from the Dark Lord with regularity. Honestly, he thought himself fairly good, all things considered.

"The training to your birthright," Puri daj replied, avoiding the question. "But before you can receive that, you must learn the ways of our people. That is why I am here. I will teach you to speak. I will teach you what you cannot do, and what you can. I will teach you to pull your own weight, and not be a burden to the kumpania. When you have learned all that I have to teach you, I will take you to my brother. Not until then."

Harry watched her, a faintly curious look on his face. She wasn't telling him everything. In fact, he got the feeling she was leaving quite a bit out. Such as this supposed birthright of his. And why did he need to learn the culture? It wasn't as though he was planning on staying… _But imagine,_ whispered some small piece of him. _Imagine, after the war and everyone knows you… Imagine that you had some place you could slip into, where you could be just yourself. A place where Sev, too, can live beside you._ Slowly he nodded.

"Alright, puri daj. I'll learn." He wasn't entirely reassured by her smile.

* * *

"Bring me thirteen stones, each the size of your head." 

"What for?"

"Do wish protection as you sleep?"

"…yes…"

"Bring me thirteen stones. And this time, do not question me."

"Yes, puri daj." Sullenly, Harry turned and entered the forest. Quickly his sullenness melted, replaced by wariness. He wasn't particularly anxious to be caught off guard in an unknown area.

Stones the size of his head. Thirteen of them. Wonderful. Why had he agreed to submit to this tyrant? It hadn't even been three hours, and already he was regretting his choice. He couldn't imagine anything being worth putting up with her. She was like Sev, back when they had hated each other.

Thirteen rocks the size of his head. Oooh, how he wished he could use magic! But the bitch had taken his wand when he'd been distracted, and now refused to give it back until he had learned what she needed him to learn. _No crutches,_ he mocked her in his head. _O chavorro na biandola dandencar. Whatever _that_ means._

* * *

"Kan," the old woman touched her ear. "Yak," she indicated an eye. "Muj," a wrinkled old finger touched a tightly drawn mouth. "Nak," her finger tapped her aquiline nose. "Cheeb," she stuck out her tongue. "Bal," her hand went to the steel gray hair curling beneath the blue head scarf. "Dand," she finished, barring her teeth. "Kan, Yak, Muj, Nak, Cheeb, Bal, Dand." 

Dutifully, Harry repeated them back to her, touching his various body parts as he went. He could now name every single part of the human body – the insane old woman had left nothing out. Why he would want to know what the female genitalia were called in the Romani tongue… Ah well. It was his job to learn, and he'd become somewhat resigned to it.

"From the beginning." With a sigh, he began reciting from the very beginning. A toe is called…

* * *

"Come here, chiavala." 

Harry looked over to where the old woman was kneeling beside their makeshift fire-pit, a pile of dead grass beside her. After an entire day in her presence, he had resigned himself to his fate and to the old woman's many oddities. Like those stupid stones. He still didn't know what they were for – they simply sat in a pile at the edge of the clearing, a sulky testament to his sweaty labor.

"Yes, puri daj?" He knelt down beside her, wincing slightly as his muscles grumbled in protest.

"You must begin to learn a skill. From now on you will weave baskets during all of our sessions of study. Do you understand?"

Harry kept his face utterly impassive, hiding his groan with the ease of one used to dealing with Sev. "Yes, puri daj," he managed to keep all of the negative emotions out of his voice, and was rewarded with an approving nod from his instructor.

"Very good. Let us begin."

* * *

"No, not there. Two steps to the left… a bit more to the right. There." 

With a soft grunt, Harry dropped the stone where instructed, straightening with a pained groan. For the past half hour, she'd been guiding him through the seemingly arbitrary pattern she wished her thirteen stones to be placed in. He still for the life of him couldn't figure out what she was doing. She'd said something about protection, but he couldn't figure out how the oddly positioned stones were to contribute. Unless they were for hurling at intruders? Only, they were too big to throw without magic, and she had his wand.

"Well, are you going to grab the next one, chiavala? Hurry now, we must have this done before sunset."

"Yes, puri daj." Returning to the steadily shrinking pile of stones, he selected another. Heaving it up into his arms, he turned to stumble over to where the slave-driver indicated.

* * *

"Now what? I arranged the bloody stones…" 

"Now you sit back, lazy boy, and I will do the work."

Harry stared at her, slack-jawed. _Lazy_? Did he, or did he not just spend two hours arranging extremely heavy rocks for her? He was covered with sweat, out of breath, and in pain. And she had the audacity to call him lazy?

The old woman was standing next to one of the rocks, her back to Harry. She was muttering something in what Harry assumed was the Romani tongue. She also appeared to be doing something with her hands, though he couldn't tell what it was with his view blocked by her back.

Puri daj finished whatever it was she was doing, then began walking toward the next stone, still muttering. Behind her, she left a trail of salt. She repeated her actions at each stone until they were surrounded in salt. Then she walked to what Harry could now tell was the middle of the design. Raising her hands above her head, she began chanting in a strange, musical tone. The sound rose and fell until Harry decided that it didn't just _sound_ musical: she actually was singing.

His heart turned over. Something hungry whispered in his core, stirring as her music seemed to resonate within him. His head tipped back, his eyes dropped, and without being consciously aware of what he was doing, he joined her in song.

No words passed his lips. One pure note streamed forth. Breath was superfluous. Only that single note, resonating, providing a spring board for puri daj's… for grandmother's song. It reached, leaped, touched the stars above them –

And everything went silent.

* * *

The silence seemed to stretch infinitely, as everything held its breath. Harry himself felt suddenly wide awake, the aches and frustration of the day vanished. In the middle of the clearing old mother stood frozen, arms upraised and an expression of awe and gratitude on her face. 

The moment stretched, then broke. Around them the forest gained life, and the wind sent out a little sigh, ruffling grandmother's skirt. She remained poised for another breath, then drew back into herself. She became, once again, a vaguely grouchy old woman clothed in deceptively bright colors.

They stared at each other, then she walked forward to sit beside him.

"Thank you," she murmured, staring up at the stars.

Harry nodded once, not bothering to ask what had just happened. Somehow it wasn't necessary. He knew without knowing. Something had changed, shifted, deep inside of him.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Harry woke the next morning and threw off the bedroll. The morning dew beaded around his bare feet as he stepped outside the stones to relieve himself. He could feel the tingle of magic on the back of his neck, and shivered as he perceived an echo of last night's resonating cry. 

By the time he re-entered the stone pattern, grandmother was up and preparing breakfast.

"Come, eat. We have much to do and little time. I did not expect your Changing so early."

"What… was that? Last night." With a night between the experience and now, Harry could almost convince himself it had been imagined. Except he had heard the song humming between the stones. Except he felt a difference in himself, so that he could swear his heart beat at an altered pace.

"Your Changing," grandmother replied calmly, handing him a fried cake of some sort. She was silent for a long moment, and Harry was worried she wouldn't explain. After all, she hadn't explained _anything_ yesterday. But then she was speaking again, and her voice held some of the awe of the previous night.

"You awoke, 'Arry. You came into your birthright. You _are_ Romani now, not just in name. _Truly_ Romani. And more than that… Your Blood Gift manifested. It is only a matter of time, now…"

And that was all she would say on the matter.

* * *

"The kumpania has an order and everyone was their place, their role. A child's role is to learn. A youth's is to follow in his father's trade. A woman's is to keep her husband's wagon and bear him children. A man's is to protect and provide for his family and his kumpania." 

Harry nodded, noting with a little frown that Hermione would be up in arms about the gender-based roles implicit in what grandmother said.

"Men and women do not mingle. It is impolite to look at a woman. If she must pass before a man he must turn around to avoid shaming her. It is dangerous to touch a woman, for she is marime, unclean. The only men who may touch her without fear are her husband, her father, and her son."

"That seems… a bit unfair, doesn't it?"

Grandmother looked surprised. "How could it be unfair? The woman is unclean."

"But _how_ is she unclean? I mean, you don't look dirty to me!"

To his surprise she chuckled. "Oh, you have nothing to fear from me, lad. I am too old to be unclean."

He stared at her for a minute, his mind whirling over what she said. It was the final clue… Suddenly he blushed and ducked his head slightly. He'd lived with Hermione and Ginny too long not to know about a woman's monthly cycle.

"So a woman is unclean because she bleeds once a month?" Harry felt faintly perturbed. That had to be one of the weirdest beliefs he'd heard in quite a while.

"That is a great piece of it," grandmother nodded.

"Okay… But I still don't see how this whole situation is fair to women. I mean, you make it sound like they're the property of the men around them! Can't they have a trade or something?"

"They are hardly property," grandmother smirked. "We have more power than is readily seen. If we wish a man punished, why, all we must do is touch him with our skirts and he must submit to the purity ritual before he can participate in kumpania life. We organize, we advise, we _dance_. We _sing_. The magic moves through us in a way men cannot comprehend." Her voice trailed off, and the expression on her face was one of someone remembering a moment of rapture. Of complete and utter bliss.

Harry had nothing to say to negate such an expression.

* * *

"Why aren't we doing language lessons today? I thought you needed to get me ready for life with the kumpania." 

The old woman had the audacity to laugh at him. Black eyes sparkled with mirth, as the wrinkled face stretched into an easy smile. His irritation bled out quickly – it was the first time he'd seen the woman smile, and he was amazed at how much younger it made her look. And now that he had seen it once, he could tell that many of the lines that crinkled at the corner of her eyes were laugh lines. This was a woman prone to smiling.

Not that he would ever have guessed from his experiences with her so far.

"Lad, you are very unobservant, or very stupid. I am not inclined to believe you are stupid," she said, smirking at his affronted expression. "May I point out that we have been speaking in Our tongue since this morning?"

Harry stared at her in disbelief. You couldn't learn a language overnight! And you especially couldn't spend half a day speaking a language and not know it!

"What do you –" He stopped abruptly, blinking. He knew exactly what he had been saying, but they weren't words he recalled ever speaking before. They certainly weren't English. He blinked, blinked again, then shrugged.

This was something he could handle. After all, he spoke the language of snakes fluently, without ever having been taught and without consciously _knowing_ that was the language he was speaking. With another little shrug he returned to weaving baskets as instructed.

* * *

"Puri daj?" 

"Va." The old woman didn't look up from her strange task, methodically sorting through colored threads. He watched her, curious and rather intrigued, until she looked up impatiently. "Va, chiavala?"

"Oh! Puri daj, you were speaking earlier about roles within the kumpania, and men and women, and all that, and I wondered…" He shifted nervously from one foot to another. Honestly Harry had no idea what was possessing him to ask her this. She would probably be scandalized, and horrified, and would hate him and force him away – and strangely, he could not bear that thought.

She went back to sorting her threads, seeming to sense he needed time. "Besh." He sat.

"Puri daj, what does your – our," he amended when she threw him a stern look. Of course, that just made his stomach sink further. Oh _what_ was he _thinking_? But it's better to ask now, he decided. Now when rejection won't hurt so much… "What does our culture think of same sex unions?"

Grandmother did not react the way he expected. She sent him a sharp look, then went back to sorting her threads. "Arry, I will not lie to you. Such unions are not considered acceptable within the kumpania, because no _children_ can result from such a union."

Harry's face fell. There went the notion of living out the end of his days happily with Sev, here as a Romani.

"When I told you about roles," grandmother continued abruptly, "I did not mention everything. Sometimes a child will be born to us that could sing the sun from the sky, and dance with the power of a firebird. They are our pride, our joy, our magic. You might know them as the Blood Bonded."

Wide green eyes stared into shrewd black orbs. Oh, he knew the Blood Bonded – Draco was fascinated with them, and they were the entire reason that Sev had been born of a Romani mother.

"These children have no gender. They have no age. They do not become marime as others might." Puri daj looked away, gaze dropping back to the colored threads on her lap. "Arry," she murmured at last. "You are this child."

* * *

Harry stared up into the canopy above him. His position was precarious at best, lying as he was on the last limb of the great oak that was strong enough to support his weight. He needed space, time to collect his thoughts. 

A Blood Bonded Mage. He was a thrice damned _Blood Bonded_.

Was there any such thing as normalcy for Harry James Potter?

Of course not. Because, by definition, normalcy excluded anyone whose first name was Harry, last name was Potter, and who had oddly shaped scars on their foreheads.

But being a Blood Bonded Mage was pushing things a little far. Sure, more power was nice, and sure, it would probably help a great deal when it came to defeating the Dark Lord. Heck, it apparently even meant that there was nothing wrong with being with Sev, because _apparently_ he didn't have a bloody _gender_.

He still couldn't decide whether he liked that or hated it. Liked, because it meant he _could_ be with Sev and still live with the Romani. Hated, because it meant that he wasn't actually a he. Nor was he a she. Did that mean he was actually an it? Because last time he checked, he still had the manly bits. Which led to another thing! How could a girl have manly bits, no girly parts, but still not be a boy?

Harry was _so_ confused!

* * *

A few hours later Harry and the old woman sat beside the fire, eating a warm vegetable stew with bread. The day had been spent predominantly in silence as Harry brooded. He was kept busy fetching wood and weaving baskets (he was surprisingly deft at the task) while puri daj wove something on a small handloom. 

Finally Harry spoke. "How long is my training going to take?"

"Two years," she responded immediately. "Your training will take two years."

Harry's face went blank, and his eyes gained a dead, haunted quality. "I don't have two years," he informed her listlessly. "I don't even have two weeks… Hell, these two _days_ might well be more than I had!"

"I might have a solution to give you more time, 'Arry."

Harry's head turned to face her, and his eyes gained a bit more life. "How? Got a little pocket of space somewhere that time doesn't exist in?" He wouldn't be surprised.

"Don't be smart with me," she snapped, though Harry felt it was more out of reflex than out of true irritation. "There is a way to send you back. Three years. To our kumpania, where my brother can train you."

Harry stared at her blankly. Again. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. Silently he stood and walked a few steps away, presenting her with his back. After a few moments, he turned back to face her.

"Why three? Why not the two you claim it will take?"

"Because it is a powerful ritual, chiavala. Three is the very least I could send you. Has no one taught you the numbers of power?"

"No," he snapped. "That's not one of the seemingly many important things Hogwarts never taught. Like _basket weaving_."

"Don't get smart with me! I am trying to help you, fool." The old woman's scowl was a powerful thing, and Harry let his head drop slightly in shame. She was right, of course. He shouldn't be sarcastic to her when she was only trying to help.

"I'm sorry. I'm just… on edge. Worried. I have no idea how Sev's meeting with Arisha Soravia went, and no clue…" he trailed off at the strange expression on the woman's wrinkled face.

"Did you say Arisha?" she asked him curiously.

"Va."

"How very amusing. I would not have thought…"

Suddenly very alert, Harry took a few hurried steps to remove the distance between them, dropping to his knees in front of her sitting figure. "Puri daj… Puri daj, do you know this Arisha Soravia?" He could not quite keep the excitement out of his voice. She was Romani, after all… Maybe, just maybe!

"Oh, I know Arisha very well. Very well indeed. And 'Arry, you know her too."

Harry blinked at her. How could he know her? He _knew_ he had never met her before. He'd never met any Romani other than that strange old shopkeeper in Diagon Alley – and somehow he doubted that she was the bright young woman that Bill was always raving about.

"You see, 'Arry, you've already gone back in time. I met you three years ago, though you looked a bit different. You went through your training, and you continued your studies out in the Wizarding World. With a group of goblins and cursebreakers. I think you were partnered with one in particular, a William"

"Weasley," Harry breathed, staring at her with very wide eyes. "Merlin! That's why you don't annunciate my first name right. And… Lord above save us, I was pretending to be myself, because…" If he hadn't already been kneeling, he probably would've collapsed to the ground. He just couldn't believe it. After all that stress, and all the worry.

He was Arisha Soravia.

* * *

**A/N: **Ok, so who saw _that_ one coming? I've been looking forward to revealing that particular kernel of information for awhile now. There were some very strong hints… If you go back and look now, you'll probably be kicking yourself for not having seen it. 

Sorry if this chapter was a bit choppy and a bit overly dramatic. There was a lot of information to give you, but not a lot of necessary action. Hopefully the next chapter is better, in which Harry gets dumped in the kumpania three years in the past. As a girl. I'll tell you more about this Mage thing, and you'll see a bit more about how this brand of magic works.

* * *

**Translations:**

gadje – non-Romani person

puri daj – grandmother (literally old mother)

puro dat – grandfather (old father)

chey – girl

dya – mother

kumpania – band of families

chiavala – lad

besh – sit

Droboy tume Romale – a greeting

nais tuke – thank you (this'll be the last time I bother translating that one, I think )

beng – devil

O chavorro na biandola dandencar. – the child is not born with teeth

va – yes


	7. My Daughter

**A/N: **Sorry it took me so long to update! I wrote part of this chapter in my notebook, and proceeded to thoroughly loose it. My talents never cease to amaze me, I assure you. Anyways, I found it while I was looking for my Philosophy notes, so I finished this chapter instead of studying for my finals. (Not that I'm anxious to study, or anything…)

Anyways, here you are! Hope you enjoy it. It answers a lot of the questions people were asking in their reviews about how the whole gender thing worked.

Also; to the reviewer who was worried about Bill's role in the grand scheme of things: not to worry! His crush in unrequited. It basically just provides an interesting dynamic that you'll get to see later in the story – this will remain HPSS.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: **My Daughter

* * *

Harry glared balefully at Nadia over the basket of clothing. If it wasn't bad enough that he apparently had some sort of gender crises, now the old woman wanted to make things worse by forcing the issue.

"I will not dress like a girl, puri daj! It's…It's…" He trailed off in frustration, growling slightly.

"It's necessary," the old woman pointed out relentlessly with a calmness born out of the certainty of being right. Harry was somewhat vindictively pleased to note, however, that there was a bit of frustration in her voice, too.

"Look, I may be gay, but I'm not a cross-dresser! Hell, _Draco_ is more in touch with his feminine side than I am!"

"Ari…" The woman closed her eyes and heaved a sigh as she bowed her head. This wasn't working at all. The boy was far too stubborn on the matter. Well, she wasn't a wise old mother for nothing – she could be just as stubborn, and had a crafty streak to boot. Time for a different angle of approach.

Nadia stepped away from the basket and walked over to Harry, grabbing his elbow and steering him purposefully over to a large rock. She forced down the surge of mixed emotions when the boy had the gall to look triumphant. Oh, she hadn't given up. Far from it. She would show that boy the power of a Romani Elder. Persuasion and emotional blackmail – oh, where would she be without them.

"Besh," she commanded imperiously, forcing him to sit down on the rock. She remained standing, using her increased height advantage for all it was worth. The boy was used to people being taller than he was – towering over him was a different story, however. He had the grace to give into the subconscious urge to lean away from her.

"Now," she began, hands on her hips as she narrowed her eyes and glared masterfully. "There is something here that you are not telling me, because as far as I'm concerned you showed up here in a dress."

Harry opened his mouth to protest – robes were not the same as a dress! – but she cut him off.

"Don't," she commanded. He closed his mouth and mustered a small sneer. She responded with a far more potent one, and he subsided.

"Look, Harry," she said, dropping her sneer and using his given name for the first time since he'd arrived. "I have very good reasons for telling you to do this, not least of which is the fact that you've already done it, and to refuse to do so now would break the space time continuum. Now, you have proved yourself to be a rational being, if somewhat less than intelligent." He glared and opened his mouth again, but she plowed on ahead, not particularly caring to hear his defense. "So explain to me, chiavala, why it is you refuse." She stepped back to give him a bit more room, though not far enough to give him room to stand. She wasn't about to give over any advantage unless she absolutely had to.

Harry glared for a moment more, torn between the many things he wanted to say. He wanted to point out that he wore _robes_, not _dresses_. Even when he'd gone out to dinner with his family, he'd been wearing robes. He wanted to be angry about her demeaning his intelligence. Sure he might not be a brainiac like Hermione, but he wasn't stupid, either. Someone in his situation couldn't survive by being stupid.

Most of all, however, he wanted answers to the questions that had been bothering him since the old woman's startling revelations the previous day.

It was for this reason that he allowed his anger to collapse in on itself, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. Calm now, he turned his piercing green gaze to the old woman.

Nadia felt a surge of approval as the boy conquered his emotions. Good, it was wonderful to see that he wouldn't let the negative emotions overcome rational thought. It would make his training that much easier, though she admitted to herself that she was glad she would be having little to do with said training. (Or had had little to do with it – after all, for her the training period had already happened.)

"Puri daj, you told me yesterday that the… the Blood Bonded, that they… we, have… no gender. I don't understand. As far as I can tell, I'm completely male." He said it with such earnest confusion that it was all the old woman could do not to burst out laughing. She gave him a broad, proud smile, dark eyes crinkling up.

"You misunderstood, Ari," she grinned wryly. "And I explained poorly. For that, my apologies." Finally Nadia relented her height advantage and she sat down beside Harry on the rock. "Your body is still male, child. I did not mean to imply otherwise. It is... hmm," she trailed off thoughtfully, staring unseeingly into the trees. What _did_ she mean? No one she'd ever heard of had ever had to explain the concept of the Blood Bonded to a confused teenager before. Oh the joys of being the first.

"It is that _socially_ you are both. It is that _mentally_ you are both. Yes, yes, you claim not to be in touch with your inner female – if that is truth, then you are incomplete, child. You will have to work on that with my brother." She thought for a moment longer, wondering how to clarify the matter further.

"You may be a man, physically," she started finally. "But our people won't ever care. You can dress and act like whichever gender you choose, and no one will mind."

"So I have society's permission to have a public gender crises?" Harry raised an eyebrow in disbelief. This was even weirder than being a girl with manly bits.

"Well," Nadia temporized with a crooked smile, "_technically_ no one will care. I would recommend choosing one gender or the other to emulate before entering the kumpania – thus, a dress."

Harry made an inquiring noise, inviting her to explain further.

"If you show up as Arisha Soravia, you will have a very thick layer of protection when you re-enter the Wizarding World. Anyone who tries to look into your past will find only Arisha. And with Harry Potter missing, do you think no one will wonder? Your skirts are a protection."

The boy seemed to be accepting her reasoning so far. At least he didn't make any outward signs of objecting – Nadia took this as encouragement. With a slight smile, she dropped the final, most tantalizing piece of persuasion she had.

"And when you are married to that fine man of yours, you will gain the right to wear a diklo," Nadia touched her own head scarf by way of explanation, then reached out and touched Harry's scar. He jerked back slightly, but his eyes widened. He understood.

Slowly Harry nodded, gazing into the trees. He gnawed on his lower lip and fiddled with his braid. Nadia remained silent. She had said everything that needed to be said – he would agree now. He had to.

* * *

"Here, put this on first." Harry took the green… thing he was handed with a slight grimace. Holding it slightly away from his body, he gave Nadia a mournful glance. "Well?" she snapped.

"Er, how does it…?" He trailed off, a blushing slightly. Nadia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Amused at his plight, he noted with defeat.

"It's a chemise," she informed him dryly. "It goes over your head. Here, you're holding it wrong." She took the bundle out of his hands, shook it out and held it up so he could see. It made a lot more sense now, he noted with a slight sense of embarrassment.

Under the old woman's watchful eye, he stripped off his shirt and pulled the loose ankle-length garment over his head. Slipping off his pants under the skirt, he folded them up and set them on top of his shirt. He looked back at Nadia, blushing deeply. She had the grace to pretend she didn't notice.

She reached out and adjusted the neckline, tightening the drawstring to bring the dress (he cringed to even think the word) up higher toward his neck.

"Good. This is the undermost garment. Now the petticoats." She handed him two thick beige skirts and he dutifully pulled them on over the chemise, pulling them tightly around his waist. "Normally a girl wouldn't wear two," Nadia informed him as she helped him. "But they'll give you a bit of curve at the hips."

Harry nodded miserably, embarrassed beyond words by the situation. Sev _so_ owed him for this.

"Here's the skirt," Nadia handed him a bright blue pleated skirt, and he pulled it on over the others, beginning to feel extremely bottom-heavy. How was he expected to move around in these? They were cumbersome, and he just _knew_ he was going to trip.

"And a bodice. Hold out your arms." She put a brown vest-like garment onto him and began lacing it up the front. He gave a slight 'oof' as she pulled it tight around his waist, and she snorted slightly.

"Buck up. At least I'm not lacing it tight all the way." And, indeed, she wasn't. It was looser in the hips and the chest, and the old woman nodded approval as she stepped back to inspect the finished product. "Good. Gives you a bit of curve."

She proceeded to explain exactly how to lace it up himself, showing him where he needed to make it tight and where he should leave it loose. By now Harry's mortified blush was fading. Now that he was actually in the outfit, it wasn't quite so bad. Only a bit worse than the date where everyone called him 'miss.'

For the first time, Harry acknowledged to himself that he could get used to this.

He pulled on a pair of sturdy brown boots at Nadia's instruction, then submitted himself to learning how to move in the multitude of skirts.

* * *

That night was to be the last that Harry spent before going back into the past. He'd (more or less) mastered moving in the skirts, and Nadia said she was confident that he would do just fine. As they sat together by the fire, Harry felt the last of his unease melt away under the old woman's soft singing.

He would make this work.

* * *

"I have something for you before you go," Nadia told Harry the next morning as they finished the ritual preparations.

"Oh?" Harry asked, turning to look at her curiously. The woman pulled out a folded square of brightly colored cloth, and Harry felt his eyes widen as she shook it out. It was a shawl, brilliantly green with an intricate yellow design. He'd never seen anything quite like it, and he told her so.

"I wove it when I was pregnant with my son," she told him, eyes dark. "It was to be my first gift to his wife."

"Oh," Harry blinked, not sure what to say. 'Sorry?' That didn't seem quite appropriate. 'Thank you' seemed inadequate, too. So he left it at 'oh.'

"Wear it proudly," she told him firmly. He ducked his head slightly and she slipped it over his head, tying it loosely around his shoulders. She pulled his braid up out of the way, then let it swing back down.

"I will," he told her softly, fingering the material with awe. Suddenly he frowned, biting his lip as he looked at her. "I… I'm sorry, puri daj, but won't you recognize it? When I go to the past?"

Nadia smiled and nodded slightly. "I will. But that's alright, as my brother and I are both to know where – and when – you are from. No one else can; but we must know."

"Oh. Thank you, then," he smiled at her shyly.

"I have one more thing," she said finally, gazing at him, black eyes full of emotion. After another short silence, she pulled out a necklace hung with gold coins that chimed softly. "It should be Severus's father who gave this to you, but the bastard is no Rom. I do it in his place." She leaned forward and fastened the necklace around the neck of a very stunned Harry Potter.

"Now, it is time." She stepped back a few places, careful not to break the ring of salt she had drawn. "Good luck, Arisha Soravia. Bori. Daughter to be."

And before Harry could force himself out of his shock, she was singing, voice filled with a power that tugged at him, teasing. Unable to resist it, he closed his eyes, clutching the letter he was to give Veshengo on his arrival. With a tiny sigh, he opened his mouth and joined the old woman in song.

A brilliant flash of light filled the clearing and the ring of salt blew outward, scattering into the wind. Panting heavily, Nadia fell to her knees, alone in the circle of trees.

* * *

Severus stared at Draco, horror written plainly across his face. If there hadn't been a very large dining table standing between him, he likely would've reached out and started strangling the boy. To his credit, Draco looked extremely agitated, and was chewing on his lip like Harry did whenever he got nervous.

The absent thought of Harry shook Sev out of his stupor, and he slowly stood up from his chair. Leaning on the table, he leveled a powerful glare at his godson, who obligingly cowered down further in his seat.

He opened his mouth to berate the boy, but decided against it. With a hissed "fool," he spun around and stalked over to the fireplace. Harry had gone to Hogwarts – they both knew that much. Therefore, the one person who might actually have answers would be Dumbledore.

Stepping through the Floo into the Headmaster's office, he didn't wait for Dumbledore to run through his standard polite small-talk.

"Where's Harry?" He glared at the Headmaster. Albus's eyes twinkled merrily, and Sev throttled the urge to reach over and shake the man.

"He left for training," Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Lemon drop?" He held out the dish, and Severus snarled angrily. This might take a while.

* * *

**A/N: **Again, I apologize for how late this was coming out. I also apologize that it's so short. I figured it was better to give you a short chapter than make you wait another month for it.

**If anyone is interested in being a beta reader for me, I'm desperately in need of one! Please email me if you're willing. consecratedmagic (at) hotmail . com**


	8. Catching Up With Time

**A/N: **I'm so sorry you guys! I've had horrid writer's block with this story lately… In the end I just decided to bypass it by fast forwarding through Harry's time with the Romani – sorry! Hopefully no one was looking forward to that too much. Although, if you look at it this way – this means Harry and Sev will be 'reunited' sooner…

Again, I'm really sorry this took so long. I'll try not to make you guys wait so long in the future.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: **Catching Up With Time

* * *

Harry groaned and sat up, rubbing his aching head. What had just happened? One minute he had been standing in the center of a clearing with puri daj, and the next… Where was he, anyways? 

Hoisting himself to his feet, he swayed slightly, fighting vertigo. It was the same clearing he had just been in, minus puri daj, the stones, and their campsite. The grass was a bit longer and a slightly different shade, and the plants and trees seemed a bit different as well. So was this the same clearing, only three years in the past?

Suddenly the vertigo became too much and Harry sat down abruptly. He was slightly taken aback as colorful fabric swirled around him. _Oh yeah,_ he remembered suddenly. _I'm wearing a dress._ This thought, surprisingly, failed to make him blush as it had a moment ago. As it had three years from now? This would definitely take getting used to.

Harry absently began playing with his braid, his necklace of golden coins chiming as he struggled back up. He needed to find water and shelter before nightfall. Preferably he'd like to find the Kumpania. Puri daj had told him they had come back to this area specifically so he could find them when he went back – if that made any sense. His head hurt.

_Alright Harry, stop thinking about the time line. My personal timeline is what counts._ He nodded to himself. Easier said than done, perhaps, but now that he had committed himself to the decision, everything else would hopefully fall into place.

_And I'm Ari,_ he reminded himself as he chose a direction and started walking, bright blue skirts swirling around his ankles. _Not Harry. Harry Potter is currently preparing to be a fifth year at Hogwarts. I am Arisha Soravia, Romani Blood Bonded Mage-in-Training._

For the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon, he used this conviction as a lodestone upon which to focus all his attention. By the time he reached the Kumpania he wanted to be well and truly convinced of its truth. Whenever he got tired of it, all he had to do was touch the chiming necklace and the beautiful silk shawl from puri daj to remind himself who he was doing this for.

* * *

The Kumpania was everything Harry had imagined, and more. Everything was bright and bustling and _loud_. There were children everywhere, and the men and women were immersed in their work. Not so immersed that they couldn't take the time to talk and laugh together, though. 

Harry stood just outside the circle of wagons, peering into this new world. English and Romani mixed together to produce an odd hodgepodge language, but it had a certain cadence and flow that appealed to the young wizard.

Taking a deep breath, he took a step toward the circle. And another.

"Oi!"

Got off guard, Harry's brain fell back on conditioning, whirling into action. Before his assailant could draw breath for a second cry, he was pinned against a nearby wagon by a booted foot to his throat. A wand had appeared in Harry's hand and was pointed at the wide-eyed youth.

The boy gurgled slightly, his tanned face pale as he spread his hands out in surrender.

Harry blinked, then had the grace to blush. He quickly removed his foot from the boy's throat, demurely straightening his skirts. He did not sheathe his wand.

"Excuse me," he murmured in Romani, his voice the same husky pitch he had used in the restaurant. "You startled me."

The youth – Harry guessed they were very close to the same age, actually – looked extremely nervous. He was looking around wildly as though searching for rescue. Why would he need rescue?

"What's going on?"

Harry's head jerked around to face the newcomer. She was an old woman, even older than Nadia. Her hands trembled with palsy, but her voice was sharp and demanding and her black eyes were bright with intelligence.

"Honored Mother," Harry met her eyes, offering her respect in his voice and stance and speaking in the Romani tongue. "I am looking for Veshengo and his sister Nadia."

Frowning, the woman dismissed the boy who immediately ran off. Probably ecstatic that he was not declared marime, Harry thought with amusement.

"Who are you, and what business have you with the Rom Baro?" She was definitely suspicious, her eyes sizing Harry up and most likely finding him wanting.

"My name is Arisha Soravia, and I've come for training." Harry tipped his chin up and tried to look authoritative. He knew from puri daj that a girl from another Kumpania coming to get training from the male leader of another Kumpania was virtually unheard of.

The woman's eyes narrowed and Harry was forcibly reminded of Mad-Eye. "Very well. Come, girl."

And without a sound, Harry Potter plunged into life as a member of Veshengo's Kumpania.

* * *

"Ari! Ari, wait up!" Harry turned as Luca ran up to him. Laughing, the Rom boy grabbed Harry by the waist and swung him through the air before returning the startled Blood Mage to the ground. 

"What on…"

"He said yes! She said yes! Ari, I'm getting _married_!" The boy's eyes were shining and he was nearly dancing a jig. Harry laughed, trying to catch his breath.

"Congratulations! I promise to come back for the ceremony so I can Sing."

"Thank you," Luca breathed, hugging himself in his glee. He probably would've reached out and hugged Harry if he hadn't already tested his limits with his greeting.

Luca was the first Rom Harry had encountered in the Kumpania. Despite their not-so-stellar first impressions of each other, once Harry had been announced as a Blood Bonded Mage the two had become fast friends. He'd never tried to make a move on Harry, for which the boy was grateful – the Rom all respected the message his coin necklace gave – but had instead started asking for girl advice. Now Luca was getting married to Sidi, so apparently Harry had gotten in touch with his feminine side somewhere over the past two years.

"Well, what are we doing standing here? We need to get you drunk, my friend! Very drunk!" Laughing and chatting, the two friends headed towards one of the old men who always had strong alcohol _somewhere_.

* * *

Harry adjusted his shawl and stared into the tiny mirror above the bed. He was leaving in less than an hour to put his training to the test. Gringotts had been looking for a Romani who would be willing to leave their Kumpania and work for the bank. Although they didn't know he was a Blood Bonded, they knew he was powerful and were willing to pay him accordingly. It was a perfect opportunity to hone his combined Wizarding and Romani Gifts into a weapon capable of defeating the Dark Lord. 

Or, that was the theory at least.

Over the past two years he had grown used to "being" a woman. He was at ease in the heavy skirts and voluminous blouses. He enjoyed the colorful shawls and bright jewelry. He'd even been convinced to let Tatoya, Nadia's daughter, pierce his ears. Now he wore large gold hoops through his ears to match his coin necklace. He'd even come to love his long wavy hair that was the envy of all the girls.

Today he was dressed even more conservatively than usual. His long green skirt had three petticoats underneath and he wore boots instead of going barefoot as he normally did during the summer. His blouse was a lighter green and the burgundy bodice set the outfit glowing. He wore his hair properly braided and had a chunk of bangs spelled to always cover his scar. His glasses had been abandoned in favor of colored contacts that gave him the black eyes of Nadia's family.

He looked Romani.

He looked like a girl.

He looked like Arisha Soravia.

* * *

Bill looked around the small receiving room with interest. He'd been working without a partner for the past two months and was finally getting someone to help out. A rookie, as it were, but he didn't mind as much as some of the guys would. After all, this particular rookie was a gypsy mage. 

He knew almost nothing about the gypsies and even less about his new partner – the goblins hadn't told him anything beyond the fact that the guy's last name was Soravia. He was excited, though. The legends about the gypsies were pretty fantastic, and if there was even a shred of truth in them, he could look forward to a very productive partnership.

The Gringott's receiving room where he was waiting was in an employee only area and was as starkly utilitarian as everything else in the employee sections. Bill glanced down at his watch.

1 minute.

30 seconds.

And…

Muttered curses filled the air as the Portkey dropped the traveler unceremoniously onto the stone floor. Bill's eyebrows arched upward in surprise. There on the floor in a cloud of green skirts sat a rather disgruntled looking female. She scrambled to her feet before he had recovered enough to offer his hand, and she stood dusting off her heavy skirts.

She was small, slender and short. Tan skin and black hair made the bright colors she wore stand out. Her movements were precise and graceful, lending themselves equally to warrior or dancer. Bright black eyes sparkled with intelligence from under arching brows.

And she could cuss like a sailor.

"Hi," Bill greeted when the cusses died down. "William Weasley," he introduced, offering her his hand. "Call me Bill."

"Arisha Soravia," she replied, taking his hand. "I suppose you may call me Ari, as we'll be working together. But don't get any ideas. What's for dinner?"

And that was the beginning of a very productive partnership.

* * *

**A/N:** Ack! Short, short, short. Sorry. I _promise_ the next chapter will be longer, and I _promise_ that I'll have it up in the next few weeks. I just don't want to make you guys wait any longer, as I feel quite cruel enough. 

I have a beta for this story, but decided not to send this one to her and just get it out to you guys as quickly as possible.

Please don't kill me.

In the meantime, check out my **yahoo group**! You can find a link in my profile. (It's my homepage)


	9. Home Sweet Home

**A/N:** Aaaand, here we are! A bit of time with Bill, and then what you've all been waiting for. Enjoy!

Thank you very much to my beta Triton, who was incredibly helpful with this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: **Home Sweet Home

* * *

"Here we are! Home sweet home," Bill announced as he led his new partner into the small apartment. It was company issue, definitely not a four star hotel, but it wasn't bad. Bill rather liked it.

What the rooms lacked in size, they made up in warmth. The Egyptian sun poured through the _large bay windows_, but a simple cooling charm kept the temperature _comfortable_. Bill's old partner had taken most of the furniturewith him when he quit, leaving Bill with a few shabby chairs from his mother.

Interesting knickknacks littered the apartment. The window sills were covered with little statues, ancient tools littered the floor, strange urns were tucked into corners, ancienttattered books were used to prop up the broken coffee table, and the feeling of cheerful, untidy chaos permeated the room. To Bill, it felt like home. His old partner had felt somewhat differently, but Bill couldn't help being a packrat.

Ari looked around with interest, though she made no move to venture further into the crowded room. She didn't look horrified, which was a start. Bill had met many women who would throw a fit at the mere sight of all the clutter.

"Not bad," she finally nodded, grinning when Bill tried to hide his relief. "Not colorful enough for my tastes, though. I'll send home for some nice colorful shawls and pillows. Puri daj will be happy to assist."

The gypsy girl picked up her skirts and picked her way through the sitting room into the kitchen. Bill hurried to follow her, making a mental note to clear a better path through the artifacts an books that littered the floor. If she was planning to wear skirts all the time – and he got the feeling that skirts were, indeed, her normal attire – he would need to adjust the mess so she could move around with ease.

The kitchen wasn't nearly as bad as the other rooms in the apartment. There were still odd little artifacts tucked into various nooks– there was a statue of Anubis in a cupboard of glasses – but the floor and counter were mostly bare. Not that Bill was much of a cook, of course. Usually the counters were covered with empty cartons of take-out food, but he _had _cared enough to clean those up before bringing his new partner back.

"Out of curiosity, do you actually use your kitchen?"

Bill blushed slightly at the question, grinning sheepishly. "Is it that obvious?"

"The only spice jar that actually has anything in it is the garlic, your pots and pans are still in boxes, and your icebox contains only ice cream and frozen meals. It's that obvious."

"Whoops," Bill grinned. Ari rolled her eyes and returned to inspecting the kitchen. She scribbled something on a napkin, and handed it to Bill.

"Shopping list," she informed him. "Bring these back before dinner time."

"Erm, ok," Bill frowned down at the chicken scratch, trying to decipher the writing. "Hey, aren't girls supposed to have really good handwriting?" he inquired lightly, testing the girl's humor.

"What makes you think I'm a girl?"

Bill stared at her blankly until she started to laugh.

"So'trekoth!" she grinned easily, her face lighting up with humor. Bill immediately grinned back, though he had no idea what she had said. "So where do I sleep?"

"This way," he beckoned down the short hallway. Like everywhere else, it was littered with various odds and ends he'd picked up over the years, so she had to be careful to gather her skirts. He really would have to do something about that.

Bill led her into the first bedroom. It was the only room in the apartment that was more or less empty. A few things had migrated in while he waited for a new partner,but for the most part it was as bare as the day Shane quit.

Ari looked around, then grinned at the sight of the large wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. Her stuff had been sent separately, and she was obviously pleased to see that it had arrived before her.

"Do you like it?"

"Va," she smiled at him.

"Er, should I assume that means yes?"

"Ah, sorry. Va. Va is yes."

Bill left Ari to unpack while he ran out with her shopping list. He was really looking forward to the possibility of a home cooked meal. Take out was all well and good, but it got very boring very quickly. Hopefully Ari could cook as well as she could cuss.

* * *

Bill shuffled into the kitchen, yawning widely. It was way too early to be up, but orders were orders, and his orders said to have Miss Soravia on site by 7. To his surprise, his new partner was already awake and making breakfast. They ate in sleepy, companionable silence.

They left the apartment with time to spare. Bill was dressed in his normal informal attire, hair pulled back in a ponytail and fang earring brushing his collar. Ari, on the other hand, was wearing an outfit similar to her traveling clothes, though today she wore purples and yellows. Under Bill's instruction, she applied cooling charms so that she would be able to last through the heat of the day.

He led her down to their current project. It was a large pyramid protected by Muggle repellent charms. It was believed to be the tomb of very powerful wizard who had been advisor to the pharaoh, and the defenses were mind-bogglingly complex.

"It smells powerful," Ari commented as they stood at the base of the pyramid.

"Smells?" Bill looked down at her in surprise, then shrugged. "Well, it is powerful. We've been leaving this one alone for years. About ten years back we lost five curse breakers to her. You must've really impressed the Boss to have him risk trying again."

"You sound pretty cheerful for someone going into a potentially lethal situation."

"Yeah, well, I'm due for a promotion this year. If we do well here, they'll _have_ to give it to me. Besides, I'm not exactly bad at this job either," he grinned predatorily. He was more than ready for a good challenge.

"Mmm," Ari looked mildly amused.

"Shall we get started?"

"Sounds good to me."

They pulled out their wands and stepped into the pyramid to get to work.

* * *

"I can't break it," Bill groaned, leaning back with an exhausted sigh. He was sweating heavily. They had been working on this charm for three days straight, and it wasn't breaking.

Harry frowned at the empty corridor. He could smell the curse as a faintly acrid stench that clung to the walls. It was one of the things he'd learned from the Rom, this ability to smell magic. Well, not learned, precisely. He'd always been able to do it, it was part of being Blood Bonded, but they had taught him how to identify the smells.

He knew he could break the charm. Over the past three days, while Bill applied himself to curse breaking, Harry had quietly stood and _felt_ the corridor. He'd learned its song. The only problem was whether he wanted his employers to know the extent of what he could do.

"Bill," he reached out and placed his hand on his partner's shoulder. "Let me try something."

"Eh?" Bill looked up in surprise. During the past week, he had been doing most of the work while Harry had been watching. It hadn't seemed odd since Harry was new to the job, but he was ready to carry his own weight now.

"This is between me and you, right?" He flashed Bill a quick smile, then stepped forward. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth and began to sing.

At first his song was soft, whispering of centuries gone past and the sacredness of this tomb. Slowly the song changed. It became an assurance of good intentions and a plea for safe passage. He used few words. His voice was what carried the magic; like spell casting, words only provided direction. They were not magical in and of themselves.

After nearly ten minutes of soft singing, the acrid smell began to fade. Within twenty minutes it was gone, and Bill had to help a trembling Harry sit down.

* * *

"What was that?" Amazement colored Bill's voice as he handed Ari their canteen. It had been one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard. One of the creepiest, too.

"Did it work?" Ari ignored his question in favor of her own.

"What? Oh!" Bill cast a few diagnostic spells, and when they came up clear he cast more specific ones. "That's… They're all clear."

"Good," Ari smiled at him, taking a deep breath.

"But really, what _was_ that?" In Bill's opinion, he had every right to know what to expect from his partner. For example, why hadn't she done that in the very beginning? He'd put _three days_ worth of work into breaking that curse, when apparently she could've just _sung_ it away the whole time.

"That was Romani bardcraft," she replied, hoisting herself back to her feet. "In one of its lesser known applications. Please don't expect me to do it often, though. It's not exactly the most practical form of curse breaking."

"Right. So why didn't you…"

"It takes time to hear the song of a place, even one as old as this. I couldn't have done it any earlier."

"That's fine. Are there any other little surprise abilities you care to warn me about?" Bill meant it as a bit of a joke, but wasn't surprised when she seemed to seriously consider the question.

"Not really," she finally decided. "I have a few more Romani tricks up my sleeve, but that's it."

"Ok. You ready to get moving again?"

"Yeah." With a shared smile, the two made their way cautiously down the corridor. It was only a matter of time before they came across more traps.

* * *

"Hang right!"

"No, I'm pretty sure we go left here."

"I'm telling you, we need to go right!"

"Look, I realize you think you've got it all down, but trust me. We don't want to go right."

"Fine. Go left. But I'm going right. I smell something down this way."

Ari turned and began walking to the right. Bill swore, borrowing a few of Ari's more colorful favorites out of habit. The girl was on the job for two months, they conquered the advisor's pyramid, and immediately she thought she knew everything about this job.

"This is a mistake," he ground out as he hurried to catch up. She just shrugged and sped up.

It turned out to be a very big mistake indeed.

* * *

"Oi! Red, is that you?"

"Hey mate! How've you been? It's been forever, ya bloody wanker!"

Harry watched in amusement as the two men pounded each other on the back. They were in a crowded pub somewhere in Wales. They'd both gotten the weekend off, so Bill had offered to show his partner of four months the place where he was born. Of course, before they could do anything as enriching as going to the Burrow, they had to tour the best pubs in the UK.

Touching his bangs to make sure they were where he'd spelled them to stay, Harry made his way further into the dingy pub. A man at a nearby table cat called, but ceased immediately when Harry turned to glare at him. These stupid gadjes didn't understand the meaning of his necklace! He was off limits, damn it.

"Oh ho! Red, mate, since when'd _you_ get a girl?" Bill's friend laughed, eyeing Harry up with amusement. He ignored Harry's displeased glare, which irritated the boy rather thoroughly.

"She's not my girl," Bill denied quickly, cheeks flushing. For some reason Harry couldn't fathom, he looked embarrassed and… wistful?

"Not man enough? Well girl, don't'cha worry. There's plenty o' real men 'round 'ere."

"And you think you're one of 'em?" roared a gray haired old man from behind him.

"Aye!" Bill's friend bellowed back. "I'm perfect for a pretty girl like her! Right girl?"

Harry didn't say anything, simply glared at him with all his might. He didn't particularly want to be here. He hated alcohol with a passion, and the atmosphere was not exactly conducive to his idea of a nice evening. Why couldn't Bill have taken him out star gazing or something? Or even to a theater in London.

"Leave her alone," Bill was busy defending him. Harry appreciated the gesture – after all, it was Bill's fault he was getting hit on – but really wished it wasn't necessary. He briefly amused himself with thinking about what the blond would do if he knew he was hitting on the Boy-Who-Lived.

"If I wanted a man," Harry inserted coldly, "I wouldn't need to settle for the drunken dregs of society, thank you."

The rest of the evening proved a bit more enjoyable, as beer proved to loosen Bill's tongue in the most fascinating way. Stories of the Weasley children's youth flowed in abundance. Bill had a story for everything and was inclined to switch stories in the middle without realizing it. For the first time, Harry allowed himself to fully relax around a drunk person. Even with Luca, close as they were, he couldn't be truly relaxed. There was just something about the Weasleys that was comfortable.

By the end of the evening they had hit six pubs, and Bill was completely wasted. He'd long since given himself over to Harry for their transportation needs, neither one completely trusting him in his current state.

They reached their hotel without any major trouble. Harry helped Bill up to their room, laughing at Bill's babbled conversation with himself. It was as he tucked his partner into one of the twin beds that Harry received a shock

"Ari?"

"Yeah?"

"You gots pertty eyes."

"Oh. Um, thanks Bill. Go to sleep."

"Nn. Yer hair shreally shiny n I wanna pet it."

"You're drunk Bill."

"I lovershoe, Air-eee-sha."

For the first time Harry remembered Ginny's birthday party. He'd forgotten about it because it hadn't been important at the time, but now he remembered. Bill had a crush. A big, fat, unrequited crush on his partner. Arisha. Harry. Bill had a crush on Harry.

And that was just plain _weird_.

* * *

The rest of theyear passed quickly. After the drunken confession, Harry sat Bill down and explained that his coin necklace meant he was off limits. Bill had been somewhat surprised, as Harry had never mentioned having a man before this, so he'd had to do a little creative fudging to cover the lapse. Everything had worked out fine, though.

Finally the day came. It was one day before he left to train with puri daj and Veshengo. Tomorrow he could reveal himself to Sev! He couldn't wait. It had been three extremely difficult years for him, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in Sev's arms for a week. Or two. Or more.

He and Bill were having a goodbye dinner at the Leaky Cauldron that night. It wasn't fancy, but it was friendly, and that's what Harry preferred.

Bill grinned at his friend and partner, raising a glass of fire whiskey in an ironic salute. "There is always that," he laughed in agreement.

"Of course," Harry playfully fluttered his eyelashes. "You admit I am always right."

Bill snorted. "Right. If you say so. And who was it who said we should hang right in the Pharaoh's Temple?"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Harry said, playfully turning away slightly. It was slightly embarrassing to remember that particular incident, after all.

Bill laughed again, taking a mouthful of whiskey. "Right, Ari. Whatever you say."

"Precisely," Harry replied, satisfied. This time it was Bill who looked away. For that reason alone, Harry knew that the end of his stint as curse breaker couldn't come quickly enough. He loved Bill as a brother – he didn't want to hurt the other boy. Why oh _why_ couldn't the crush have ended after the talk?

"Bill! Bill? Bill?" It took awhile for Bill to hear him. "Are you alright, Lolo?" he asked in concern.

Before Bill could answer, a voice that Harry had missed almost as much as Sev's rang out across the pub.

"Bill! William Weasley, where are you!"

Harry felt his heart flutter when he saw Ginny and Draco standing by the fireplace. They were still dressed in their robes from the double date. After three years, seeing them so suddenly brought such a rush of emotions that he didn't hear Bill call them over. When an awkward silence fell, however, he kicked Bill.

"Um, right. Ari, this is my sister Ginny and her friend Draco. Guys, this is my partner Arisha."

Ginny was looking at him oddly, and Harry got the feeling that, on some level, she recognized him. How amusing.

"This might work out," Ginny breathed, reaching out to hug Draco's arm. "Draco, we might pull it off!"

Draco looked a bit uncomfortable at the whole situation and just patted Ginny's arm. Harry drank them in. He'd missed them. _Really_ missed them.

Bill blinked a few times. "Uh… Anyone care to explain for the uninformed?" he inquired blankly, gesturing absently to Harry and himself.

"Yes, yes, of course," Ginny nodded. "Would you mind coming back with us? I'm so sorry to disturb you, but there's an emergency." Fidgeting, she added, "It's Hex."

Harry was gratified by how quickly Bill stood. It was nice to know that the Weasleys cared enough to drop everything for him like this. "Sorry, Ari," he apologized. "Maybe next week?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but Ginny talked over him. "Please Miss Soravia; we'd appreciate it if you could come too. It involves you."

Harry nodded. "Of course," he murmured. "It is not a problem at all."

As all four made their way back to the fireplace, Harry caught the look on Draco's face as he finally caught on to what Ginny had already seen.

"Snape Manor," Draco said firmly, stepping into the green flames. Harry's heart suddenly sped up. Sev. Sevsevsevsevsevsevsevsev, chanted his mind as Bill and then Ginny stepped through the flames. He stepped through last of all, hand shaking slightly. He was going to see Sev again.

As he called out his destination, a sudden thought struck him, calming him immediately. He was going to see Sev, yes.

But he was going to see Sev as Arisha Soravia.

He stepped out of the fire, deliberately keeping his back to his fiancé as he brushed soot off his dress. For the first time since puri daj had convinced him to don the skirts, he felt embarrassed about his clothing. What would Sev think of him cross dressing? Harry was well aware of the fact that it was abnormal even in the Wizarding World.

Finally collected, he turned to face the man that he loved. There was a heart stopping moment when their eyes met, and he felt like he was running an emotional marathon. The will power required to stay put and not throw himself at his lover was incredible. It took every ounce of training he had ever received from _anyone_ to remain calm and aloof.

"This is Arisha Soravia," Ginny introduced, sounding slightly smug.

"Droboy tume Romale," Sev gave a little nod, not seeming to be able to tear his eyes away.

"Nais tuke," Harry replied, pleased, as he gave an answering nod. Sev was looking a bit blindsided, and Harry wondered if he'd been recognized.

"Kaski san?" Harry smiled slightly at the question, lurking near the fire to avoid the temptation to run to his lover.

"I believe it is more pertinent to ask why you have need of me," he switched back to English. He could hardly stand hearing Sev's voice lilting out the language that Harry had so grown to love.

"I…" Sev trailed off, then coughed. "That is, we…" he trailed off again, staring at him strangely. Harry couldn't smother a bubbling laugh. He'd managed to throw Sev off balance! How delightful.

"There was an emergency and Miss Weasley pulled a Gryffindor."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. Arisha wouldn't understand that reference, after all. "You say this as if should mean something to me," he smiled slightly. "I am afraid you must explain further."

"Your name was used in conjunction with mine." Was Severus _blushing_? "You were named my blood bride, in front of a man who – if this deception is discovered – will have me tortured to death."

Harry couldn't help laughing at the pink tinge on his lover's cheeks. "And what do you expect of me?" he finally answered. "What is it you think I can give to you?"

"Your forgiveness, first off," Bill was frowning. He knew Harry – or Ari, to him – preferred relative anonymity. "That was extremely wrong of you, Ginny."

Ginny scowled back at her brother. "Shove off Bill. A Death Eater was eyeing us all up. I did not particularly want to die, nor did I wish to witness my friends and family die."

"My forgiveness is not needed," Harry inserted, amused. "Though I give it freely if you ask."

"Information might be helpful," Draco inserted quickly, jumping on the perceived opening. "Names of those who know you. The name of your betrothed, especially."

"Now hold a sec!" Bill was glowering now, but they all ignored him.

Harry hesitated. How much should he say? He'd planned on approaching Sev tomorrow anyway…

"Please, Miss Soravia. We just need honest answers." Ginny seemed to interpret his hesitation a different way, and he didn't correct her.

"Si khohaimo may pachivalo sar o chachimo," he muttered, half to himself and half to Sev.

"Try us." Sev's voice was gentle and irresistible. There was nothing Harry would deny the man if he asked for it.

He laughed, not bothering to feminize it. "Tachiben… A-ko isi pomoshinav tumen," he smiled wistfully. "Rom Romensa, va?" A pregnant silence filled the room. "Me som tutti rat bori," he whispered.

"I, I don't think… I… _What did you say?_" That was twice that Sev had been blind sided, though this time Harry wasn't quite as amused.

"Me som tutti rat bori," Harry repeated, intrigued by the expression on his lover's face. "**I am your blood bride, Severus,**" he continued in their shared tongue. "**Your mother and my father agreed upon it as soon as my coming was known to the tribe.**"

"**You don't understand,**" Severus replied shakily, staring at a spot a little above Harry's left shoulder. **"I am already promised. I myself made the oath to take another as my own.**"

Harry felt a surge of emotion; devotion, love, pride. "**I know,**" he murmured, surrendering to the urge to move closer. His left hand reached up to brush a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, and Sev's eyes widened momentarily before narrowing into hostile slits.

"**Where did you get that?**" he hissed angrily, taking three angry strides forward, snatching the hand up to inspect the ring Harry wore. Internally he swore – he'd forgotten he was wearing that. It had been three years to him, after all.

"**Don't touch me,**" he snatched his hand back, stepping away. "**I do not particularly like the being marime.**"

"I…" Sev trailed off, looking lost.

Bill seized the opportunity to intercede, stalking forward until he reached the Roms. "Could one of you _kindly_ inform the rest of us what is going on here?"

Severus opened his mouth to answer, then shook his head.

"It's nothing, Lolo," Harry replied, smiling at his friend. "In fact, why don't we call it a night. You and I work in the morning, and it is getting quite late. If I am not home within the quarter hour, I will suffer a tongue-lashing from Rosien." It was a bit of a white lie, of course. Luca's wife wasn't expecting him until tomorrow morning, when he'd promised to stop by their wagon for breakfast with the young couple, and his last day of work had been yesterday. He was just anxious to leave.

Bill tried to interrupt, but Harry had already made his way over to the fireplace.

"**Have your little friend ask the graybeard about the letter. It will make things clear to you. Until we meet again,**" he gave Sev a little smile. He remembered getting a hind about the letter, so he might as well drop it himself. With that, he stepped back through the flames, heading for home.

* * *

**A/N: **If you guys think you recognize the last scene, it's because you do recognize it. This is Harry's take on chapter four. Hope you enjoy it, and I'll get started on the next chapter ASAP.

* * *

Lolo: Red (This is Arisha's version of the nickname Bill's co-workers in Egypt use)

Si khohaimo may pachivalo sar o chachimo: There are lies more believable than truth

A-ko isi pomoshinav tumen: Maybe I can trust you


	10. Coming Clean

**A/N: **Is this where I hope an abject apology will make up for my tardiness?

* * *

**Chapter Ten: **Coming Clean

* * *

It was hard for Harry to fall asleep that night. After his confrontation with Sev - in which he revealed far more than he intended to - he'd had to face a bewildered Bill.

A year is long enough for two people to grow close, and he had become very close with the eldest Weasley. He'd always considered Bill to be something of a really cool big brother – distant, but there if you needed him. Now Bill was one of his closest friends, made more so by the new distance of experience that lay between Harry and everyone else.

It had really struck home last night, that distance. To Ginny, Draco, and Sev, no time had passed. As far as they were concerned, they had just sent him to bed – but for him, it had been three long years. In the beginning, Bill had been something familiar, and he had clung to that connection. Over time, that connection had grown into a friendship that, Harry was certain, would persevere through the coming hardships.

They'd already been through some really rough times together. They had proved that they could work together, and Harry would choose to have Bill covering his back over just about anyone else. More than friends, they had become partners – and a bond like that didn't break easily.

The drama last night had left Bill feeling confused and hurt. Harry had felt a stab of shame when he met the redhead's eyes after they returned to their flat. Bill hadn't demanded an explanation, hadn't pressured 'Ari' into telling him what had just happened. In many ways, that would make Harry feel a lot better. Instead, there had been a moment of silence between the two before Bill had gone to bed.

It was very hard to fall asleep that night.

* * *

"Bill?"

Bill looked up in surprise as he shuffled into the kitchen. He'd been expecting Ari to be long gone, returned to her Kumpania. She was, after all, Blood Bonded – when she had told him that, he'd been surprised that the Roms had ever let her out of their sight. There was no reason for her to stick around.

Oh, who was he kidding. She was his best friend, and he was happy to see her.

"Yeah?" He slumped down in one of the kitchen chairs, tossing an old tome on the floor to make room for his coffee mug.

"I," she paused, looking unsure of herself. That was odd – even when she was wrong, she was generally quite sure of herself. It was disconcerting to see her acting her age. Most of the time he forgot that she was only _just_ 21. He didn't like being reminded of the fact.

"About last night," she continued, licking her lips nervously, refusing to meet his eyes. "I-"

"Look, Ari, it's fine. We don't need to talk about –" He didn't like her feeling nervous in his presence. They were friends.

"Yes, we do," she interrupted firmly, meeting his eyes for the first time that morning. He gaped slightly. They were green. A bright forest green that was extremely familiar, yet alien. Ari had _black_ eyes.

"Your eyes—"

She gave him a tight smile. "Mmm. My eyes. Among other things. We _really_ need to talk, Bill. I don't want to leave without coming clean to you. You're one of my best friends. You're my partner. You deserve the truth."

"Alright," he nodded slowly, staring at her green eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, we need to talk."

"My name isn't Arisha Soravia," she blurted out. She blushed, then scrubbed her face with her hands. "No," she moaned as he stared at her in confusion. "No, that's not right. I am Arisha. Merlin, I have no idea how to tell you this, Bill!"

"Is your name Arisha, or isn't it?" He watched her fidget with morbid fascination.

"Well, I wasn't _born_ with that name. That's not the name my parents gave me, at any rate. Arisha is the name that I was given by puri daj when she offered me a place in her Kumpania – sanctuary, if you will."

"From?"

"The Wizarding World. Sort of," she amended, chewing on her lower lip.

Bill nodded mutely. Alright, he could accept that. He knew very little of her life outside of Egypt, but he'd caught references to things that didn't strike him as very Romani. When it came down to it, he guessed it wasn't so hard to believe.

"I _am_ Romani," she added, obviously not sure whether she was reassuring him or reassuring herself. He let her talk. "I mean, my family line is. At least on my dad's side, and from puri daj's little riddles, I think maybe mum's side, too. It doesn't really matter, I guess. I am Romani, but I've also got Wizarding blood."

Which would explain why she had chosen to do a stint as a curse breaker. He nodded for her to continue, not knowing what he could say to make this easier for her.

"You already know about me being Blood Bonded," she fretted, playing with her coin necklace. He nodded encouragingly – she had told him about her special powers months ago. He'd been somewhat in awe of her for all of five minutes, before everything was put back into perspective for him. It still warmed him inside that she had trusted him with that information.

"Well, here's an interesting but little known fact about Blood Bonded Mages – we don't technically have a gender. I mean, our reproductive organs are one of the other – we're not hermaphrodites or anything. We don't switch back and forth, either. It's more… we can be whichever we want, as far as society is concerned. Va?"

The fidgeting intensified, and Bill had a flash of insight before his companion could say another word.

"Merlin!" he gasped, eyes wide, "you're a boy, aren't you!"

Ari blushed brick red, then nodded shyly. Bill felt his entire world crash down around him, and he let out a low whistle. A whole year. They had lived together for a whole year, and never once had it crossed Bill's mind that he might not be living with a member of the fairer sex. All the little things…

Even looking back, it was hard for him to find anything that would indicate to him that Ari was male. Sure, there were times when she/he/whatever acted like a tomboy, but even then… Now that he thought about it, though, there was nothing overtly _feminine_ about his companion, either. Outward appearance notwithstanding, there _was_ a certain vague, androgynous quality about Ari.

It took Bill about five minutes to digest the news. He waved her – he couldn't help thinking of Ari as a 'her' – off when she opened her mouth to try and explain. He simply sat and absorbed it. Finally he sighed and sat back.

"Alright. So you have different plumbing than I thought you did. You're still Ari, right? Right," he continued without waiting for her reply. She gave him a hesitant smile. "Alright," he muttered again, for his own benefit. There was another moment of silence before he burst out laughing, surprising Ari.

"Oh, Merlin! All this time, I've been crushing on a boy! That's… Wow. That's just too perfect. I suppose it serves me right," he laughed, wiping his eyes. "Swearing off girls, and all. Just my luck that I think I'm breaking my oath… Pretty clever about the engagement, though," he indicated her necklace, finally swallowing his laughter. An amused smile hung around his face, though, and the mood remained light.

"Oh, the engagement is real." Ari smiled somewhat wistfully. "I've got a man waiting for me, if he'll still have me after everything."

"Girl, boy, or whatever you are, you're a fine catch, Ari," Bill smiled at her supportively.

"You're taking this very well," Ari commented, regaining her usual confidence. "If I'd known you would take it so well…"

Now that he was listening, he heard a masculine timbre in the gypsy's voice. Cued in on its presence, the voice was as much a male tenor as it was a female alto – it was both at the same time, really. Which made sense, with the whole androgynous thing that apparently went with being Blood Bonded. Merlin knew that Bill wouldn't be able to handle the gender confusion! No wonder the kid wore dresses.

"Oh, this is 65 percent bravado," grinned Bill. "Inside I'm extremely confused and wondering when I'm going to wake up and find the world right side up again. Barring that happy occasion, however, I figure it's best to take it all in stride. There's no use getting upset at you – what kind of friend would that make me?"

Ari smiled back, obviously beginning to relax again. Bill took the time to inspect her more closely. She was wearing one of her usual dresses, but for the first time Bill noticed how thick her skirts were. He could see at least two different colored petticoats peaking out from under her skirt. So that explained her hips. And the way the bodice was tied… When Ari saw where he was looking, she grinned and patted her flat chest.

"Yup, nothing there," she shrugged. "I considered stuffing myself with socks in the beginning, but decided it was too much trouble. After all, I'm not _masquerading_ as a girl so much as I'm letting my own feminine side out." She appeared to be musing out loud, and Bill got the feeling that she had been somewhat bothered by the outfit in the beginning.

"It suits you," Bill winked, winning a bright laugh in return as he continued to inspect her. Her hair was black and hung down to her waist in a thick braid – unisex, as far as the Wizarding World was concerned. The face itself was full of soft angles, and could be either male or female – he was used to reading it as female, but he could see how it could just as easily be read as male.

The eyes were the only thing that bothered him. At first they had seemed extremely out of place on Ari's face. The more he watched her, though, the more he felt that nagging familiarity. As if he'd seen _those _eyes on _that_ face before. Not Ari. Who had green eyes like that?

"Thanks," Ari gave him an ironic little half smile, and Bill could have swallowed his tongue.

"Er, what did you say your name used to be?"

* * *

Severus spent the day in a terrible mood. He _needed_ to talk to Harry. It was incredibly inconvenient of the boy to waltz off for training _now_ of all times. The situation with Arisha was weighing heavily on his mind. He didn't like the idea of some Romani girl claiming to be his blood bride the night before Harry left to train with the Roms.

Severus Snape did _not_ believe in coincidence.

There was something going on. Something that involved him, and he wanted to know what it was. He liked to be on top of the game, aware of everything. Being in the dark in any situation went against the grain.

When it somehow involved his lover, well, that just made it worse.

Draco had wisely left for the day. He was staying with young Blaise Zabini until such a time as it was safe to return. Although Severus had long since forgiven the boy for letting Harry leave, it still hadn't made him a pleasant companion.

He glowered down at his second ruined potion and gave up with a strangled cry. He couldn't concentrate. His mind kept returning to Arisha Soravia, and her claim. How could he have a blood bride? It made no sense! His mother not withstanding, the Romani _never_ gave brides away without a very good reason. You had to apply very tenaciously _and_ they needed to be in your debt. Neither condition was true for Severus.

It just made no logical sense. With a frustrated string of curses, he stalked out of his lab. What he needed was a good, strong drink. Halfway to his liquor cabinet, he stopped. He knew how Harry felt about alcohol – he even had a vague recollection of his lover telling him off for drinking last night.

With another angry oath, he changed his course and headed for the tower instead. Climbing the winding stairs gave him time to calm down somewhat, and by the time he reached the top he'd come up with a solution of sorts. It had been a long time since he had last seen his mother. A very long time. He vaguely remembered her standing between him and his father, but he'd only been six when she'd left.

Since then, she had sent him tokens on his birthdays until he turned seventeen, but he couldn't remember ever writing back to her. Darius Snape wouldn't allow it, and as a child Severus didn't have the courage to stand up to his larger-than-life father. He should have contacted her again after his father died, is what he should have done. But by then he'd thought himself grown, and he never thought to contact the woman he could barely remember.

What he could remember of her, though, had left its impression. She had been a young mother – she was only thirteen when she had him, which made Severus feel somewhat ill to think about. That his father could have gotten a little girl pregnant… Even in the Wizarding World, such a thing was frowned on.

She had been beautiful, with a bright scarf tied around her head and thick black curls spilling down her back. Her eyes were black as well, and when she smiled, you remembered her face. He had inherited her hair and her eyes, but if he'd inherited her smile then Darius had beat it out of him as a child. He vaguely remembered a sister, with dark eyes like his own. Whatever happened to her?

He continued to muse as he penned a short letter and tied it to the leg of Harry's owl.

"Take this to Nadia," he told the snowy owl. The owl hooted and took off. Sev watched her fly off, then turned to retreat back to the warmth of his study. He would wait for his mother to reply, and if he was lucky he would see her soon. Harry would like that.

* * *

Nadia looked up in surprise as the snowy owl swooped down into her small clearing. It was broad daylight, and the appearance of the creature startled her somewhat. She knew enough of Wizarding customs, however, to stand her ground and take the offered letter.

"Thank you, feathered beauty," she murmured to it in Romani. The creature cooed, then flew to a nearby tree. The message in its action was clear – it would wait for a response.

_Mother,_

_I apologize for taking so long to write to you. It has been many years since I last heard from you, but I received a visitor last night who spoke your name. You may know her; Arisha Soravia. She gave me news that has unsettled me, and I believe it would be beneficial to meet with you._

_If you are amiable, I would like to extend an invitation for you to visit me at Snape Manor. Whenever is most convenient for you, of course. My home is open to you._

_Thank you for your time,_

_Severus _

Nadia spent a long time staring at the letter in her trembling hands. Severus… She had not seen her son for years. He'd been six when she'd walked out with Tatoya. Only six, and she had abandoned him to face that monster alone. She could understand why he had never cared to contact her before this.

_Only think_, her mind whispered to her - _see what Arisha has done for you already. Already your long lost son reaches out to you._ Shaking with emotions she could hardly name, Nadia tucked the letter into her bodice.

She had to attend to business herself – Harry was out there fetching stones for her – but she could send someone to talk to Severus until she could come herself. She picked out three colored threads and tied a brief message into them.

"Take these to Tatoya," she instructed the owl. "She will follow you."

* * *

Severus looked up as the fireplace roared. He reflexively checked the time, but Draco wasn't due back for another few hours. Setting aside his book, he stood to greet his visitor. Maybe Harry was back…

A woman stepped out of the fireplace, shaking soot out of her brightly patterned skirts. She was as tall and slender as he was. Her hair was black beneath her bright blue head scarf, falling down her back in thick waves.

"Hello," Severus nodded warily. He was fairly certain this was not his mother. It wasn't impossible, of course, but somehow he'd imagined Nadia to be somewhat smaller. In fact, the woman's surprising height and bearing brought himself to mind.

"Severus," she smiled briefly. A tense silence fell before she shook her head. "You look well, brother. I'm sorry our mother couldn't make it – her hands are full at the moment."

Severus nodded, then offered her a seat on the couch. She settled down easily, looking around with a curious eye.

"It looks nice," she announced approvingly. "Better than I remember."

"Thank you."

"Who are those two young men up on your mantle?" she inquired using her chin to indicate a large framed picture of Harry and Draco that had been taken earlier that summer. The two boys were lying in the grass outside, alternately grinning at the camera and whispering conspiratorially.

Severus smiled, pleased to be given an easy conversation starter. "The blond is my godson, Draco. The other is my fiancé, Harry." He looked over at his sister, curious to see how she would react to the news.

"Handsome," she declared, voice laced with sardonic amusement. "How will poor Arisha ever compete with that boy?"

"Straight to the point?"

"Your letter was very blunt, brother. That's a character trait we share." Tatoya's eyes were shrewd as she sized him up. He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.

"Would you like something to drink?" he inquired, changing the subject abruptly as one of the House Elves popped into the room.

"Tea," she informed the creature, who bowed, ears quivering.

"Yes, Mistress," the elf gushed. "Pippy is so happy to be seeing the Mistress again! If the Mistress wants anything, let Pippy know!"

Severus raised an eyebrow, sending the elf scurrying. A moment later it was back with a tray of tea and biscuits. They served themselves in silence, still settling in to the new situation.

"So, sister. Tell me about Arisha."

* * *

"Er, what did you say your name used to be?"

Harry gulped as Bill stared at him with a strange expression. So far the redhead had taken the news way better than he'd expected. Bill was typically fairly laid back, but finding out that your partner is a different sex than you were expecting couldn't come as anything less than a shock. Still, he'd taken the boy part with surprising ease – but this next part might prove somewhat more difficult to swallow.

"This is going to sound really odd," he hedged, watching Bill warily. Bill grimaced. "Harry Potter," he finally choked out. "My name is Harry Potter."

Bill was silent for another few minutes, staring intently at his face. Harry squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. It was times like this that he wished he didn't have scruples and could use Leglimency to figure out what the redhead was thinking.

"You're right," he said finally, massaging his temples. "It does sound really odd. See, I just had dinner with Harry Potter early this week, at my sister's birthday party – but I know for a _fact_ that _you_ were at work then. Not to mention the fact that you're three years older than he is."

"Not anymore," Harry said apologetically. "This morning Harry Potter went off to train with the Romani. He got sent three years into the past under the name Ari."

"Harry, Ari… Clever. But that's assuming I believe you."

"I have no reason to lie to you, Bill," Harry pointed out, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. He hoped he didn't sound as pathetic as he felt.

"No," the redhead agreed slowly. "No, you don't have any reason to lie to me. Tell me again why my sister calls you by that odd nickname?"

"Hex? Because she and Draco mixed up a Muggle game called jinx, and it just stuck. Why?"

"No reason," he shrugged, but his eyes were clearing up. Harry had the feeling that he had just passed a test, and slowly began to relax.

"It'll take me a while to get used to this," Bill cautioned as Harry smiled tentatively at him.

"That's okay," Harry shrugged. "I've had three years to get used to the idea – I'm just trying to figure out how I'm supposed to tell Sev, Gin, and Dray."

* * *

"Arisha? Well now, I suppose that depends on what you want to know," Tat gave her brother a sharp smile. He'd grown up nicely – it was good to see that their father hadn't ruined him.

"Let's start off with how you know her, and what her connection to _me_ is."

"You have never met him, but we have an uncle, Veshengo. Three years ago he took a child under his wing. Arisha Soravia became like his own child during the apprenticeship. She is very powerful, Severus. She will make you a fine spouse."

"Be that as it may," he drawled, "I am a grown man. I am already promised to someone." He nodded toward the picture on the mantle, but Tat kept her eyes on his face.

"Yet rumor has it that you yourself have confirmed that Arisha is your blood bride." Ari had told her that, a long time ago. Back when they first met, and Tatoya was struggling with two children and another on the way. It had been an interesting story, and it stuck with her. She'd always wondered what her brother had been thinking, pulling that stunt.

He grimaced. "That is beside the point."

"No, that _is_ the point," she argued. "What might have otherwise simply been verbal wishing between two elders was confirmed when you spoke agreement."

"I had no way of knowing –"

"And _that_ is what is beside the point," she interrupted. "It doesn't matter whether you knew or not. What matters is that poor Ari has been named your blood bride, and if you don't take her…" she trailed off. In normal circumstances, a girl in that situation would never be allowed to get married.

"You used her name," she continued relentlessly, barely giving Severus time to process what she was saying. "She is _bound_ to you. You may be my brother in blood, but that child is my kin in ways that count for far more. Do not hurt her."

"Tell me more about her," he instructed brusquely, apparently choosing not to acknowledge her implied threat. She smirked inwardly. Whether he acknowledged it or not, he'd heard it.

She began telling him a little bit about the person he had twice promised to marry.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry it took me so long, guys! I've had horrible writer's block with this story. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I'll try not to be so tardy with the next one. 


	11. Coming Together

**I'm back. Hope you enjoy this installment! I promise you won't have to wait two years for the next update.  
**

* * *

It was hard to be back in the Kumpania. He'd gotten used to living with Bill and operating in the Wizarding World. As much as he loved the bustle and cheer of the families who lived and traveled together, he just couldn't fit himself back into their lives. It had been so easy the first time. Living with puri daj and Tatoya, studying with Veshengo, singing with Rosien… Now their lives were a melody he could no longer hear.

"I can't stay here, Tatoya," he said, finally breaking down. They were doing the wash together, enjoying some time away from the children.

"I know," she said. She frowned at the shirt she was scrubbing. "Holes. That man can't keep his shirts in one piece to save his life! Honestly."

"Tatoya, I'm serious!" Harry threw another petticoat into the soapy water. "I don't belong anymore."

"Of course you belong, Ari. You're family. You will always belong here. You're just… Restless, va?"

"Maybe." Harry scrubbed the petticoat with unnecessary vigor.

Tatoya was quiet for a few long moments, and Harry glanced over at her to see what had absorbed her attention. To his surprise, she was looking at him intently.

"Arisha, I have two responses to your feelings. I believe they are both valid, but I don't know which one you need to hear."

Harry looked away. When Tatoya focused her attention on someone, she scrunched down her eyebrows, tilted down her head, and pursed her lips. It was always obvious that she was Severus's sister, but when she looked at him like that… He could almost see his lover in the shape of her eyes and the angle of her head.

"I went to see Severus."

Harry sucked in his breath, held it for a count of three, then slowly exhaled.

"He sent a letter immediately after your little visit last week. He wanted to know about Arisha, wanted to know how to get out of the mess he thinks he's in."

"What did you tell him?" Harry slowly pulled out the petticoat.

"That Arisha Soravia is the best girl I know. That he _has_ to marry her, because he claimed her in public. That there's no backing out, not according to our traditions at least."

"But what about Harry?"

"Sweetheart… The only thing to do is tell him. He's already sending inquiries to find out what happened to Harry. I mean, to you. It's time to come clean."

"But…" Harry couldn't bear to articulate the doubts that were churning his stomach. Just because he'd gotten used to the situation, it didn't automatically follow that Severus would be okay with it. And Bill had taken it fine – but Bill wasn't his lover, only a good friend.

"You have to tell him," Tatoya said gently. He knew she was right. Arisha couldn't simply disappear so that Harry Potter could resume his life. Things had changed. _He _had changed. And Severus deserved to know the whole truth.

"Tomorrow. I'll tell him tomorrow."

* * *

Severus paid the fare and stepped out of the poorly maintained cab. The Muggle hardly waited for him to shut the door before he took off down the dirt road. Severus considered cursing him with a flat tire, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Besides, he didn't know what kind of wards the Roms were likely to have. It would be just his luck for the curse to get detected and ruin his chances for making a positive impression on the people he believed Harry was training with.

He started down the path. The Muggle had said there was a gypsy camp half a mile into the woods, and Severus was positive that this was the Kumpania that had invited Harry to train with them. It had taken a week of research, but this had to be it.

The past week had been terrible. He'd felt a gnawing guilt for what he had done to Arisha, binding her to him when he couldn't possibly marry her. He was also sorry for upsetting Harry, but now he was starting to feel like the young man should've gotten over it and contacted him. He'd been an ass, but that didn't deserve a week of not knowing where his fiancé was and whether or not he was alright!

Severus's progress was halted by the manifestation of a boy in the path. The child had a stick in one hand, but it was too long to be a wand.

"Hello," Severus said, deciding to take the cautious route. "I'm looking for Veshengo."

"Who're you?"

"Severus Snape." He hesitated, then added, "my mother, Nadia, lives here."

The boy's eyes got very wide and Severus wondered briefly whether he had done something wrong. Then he was off down the path, yelling something in Romani that was too fast for Severus to understand. Not wanting to be left behind, Severus hurried to follow the boy.

The camp was bright and full of people who were staring at him with expressions of wonder. Severus felt acutely embarrassed by the attention. He looked around for Harry, Tatoya, or for anyone who looked like they might be in charge.

Before he was forced to ask for help, the little boy emerged from a brightly painted wagon, tugging a small old woman after him. He recognized her immediately, despite the years. How had he forgotten so easily? She was staring at him with the same expression of recognition and awe that was probably on his own face.

"Mother?"

"Severus!" She held her arms open, and Severus walked over slowly. The embrace felt stiff and somewhat unnatural, but Severus didn't mind terribly much. He pulled away first, and took a step backward. Nadia regarded him with compassion, which made Severus feel uncomfortably aware of their audience.

"Mother, I have business to discuss with Veshengo." After a second's hesitation, he added, "I'm glad to see you again."

It had taken awhile to piece together exactly where Harry had gone. In the end, it was only after talking to the Headmaster again that he put two and two together. Harry's letter had been from a man called "Veshengo," a man Tatoya had indicated was their uncle. Provided, of course, that it was the same Veshengo. He sincerely hoped it was this easy.

"You'll be here about Arisha, then." She smiled, but he could tell she was disappointed.

Severus grimaced, but didn't answer. He wasn't sure how to ask about Harry, but he would apparently have to put up with talking about Arisha Soravia before he could get anywhere with his search for his missing fiancé.

"Alright folks, be about your business." Nadia made a few shooing motions, and the onlookers began to drift away. Except one.

"Miss Soravia," Severus greeted, voice tight. He had expected that the bright summer sun would banish the shade of Harry he had seen when she had shown up in his living room. Instead the daylight made the similarities more striking. Where the dark and the firelight softened her features, the sunlight made Arisha look sharper and more real.

"Severus." Her voice shook. He closed her eyes and heard Harry say, "we have much to talk about."

For one terrible moment, Severus felt like he could be happy with this woman, that he could marry her. Severus shook his head, banishing the thought. He didn't want a woman, no matter how much she looked and sounded like his lover.

But Harry had never spoken with that trace of a Romani accent.

"Yes." Like why you look and sound like my lover. Like why you ever agreed to entering into a verbal contract about a man who didn't know you existed. Like how you could be so calm about never being able to marry another Rom – since I most certainly will not take you into my home.

"Please, join me in your sister's home. She won't mind our intrusion."

"I… was hoping to speak with Veshengo."

"This first." Arisha smiled. She looked strained and nervous. For the first time Severus wondered if she might not be as calm as she had seemed.

"Very well." He owed her that much at least. He followed her across the camp, ignoring the inquisitive stares of her family and friends. Did anyone ever grow used to living with other people like this? How were you ever alone?

A few minutes later he was settled at his sister's table. Arisha was boiling water and Tatoya was guiding the last curious, squirming child out the door. The silence as Tatoya closed the door behind her was deafening. Was it proper for them to be without a chaperone? Severus was almost positive that this situation was not supposed to occur, even if they were betrothed.

"Miss Soravia," Severus started, but she held up a hand to stall him. He fell obediently silent. He was quite willing to have this conversation on her terms – as long as it didn't last all day. Finding Harry was still his priority.

She poured two cups of tea and turned to set one down in front of him. A glint of silver on her left ring finger caught his attention and his eyes narrowed. He was positive that was Harry's engagement ring. But how had she gotten it?

"Severus. I have so much to tell you and absolutely NO idea where to start."

"The beginning, so they say, is an excellent place."

Arisha snorted and ran her fingers through her hair. The gesture screamed 'Harry,' especially in the strange wrist movement that kept cover over the forehead throughout the entire motion. A suspicion began to build up inside Severus, but it was deep and strange, and he wasn't willing to acknowledge it.

"Three years ago I was invited to join Veshengo's Kumpania, to train as a Blood Bonded Mage."

Severus hissed. Blood Bonded? Things had just gotten far more complicated than he was prepared to deal with. His Slytherin instinct was suddenly clamoring for him to marry this woman, to secure this power. But that begged the question why anyone would consider marrying her off to an outsider. His mother might be Rom, but Severus himself belonged in the Wizarding World.

"I spent three days learning to be Rom, two years learning to be Blood Bonded, and one year reintegrating with the Wizarding World."

Learning to be Rom. Reintegrating with the Wizarding World. What in Merlin's name was going on here?

"This training required that I leave behind my name, my identity, and my lover. Through a powerful bit of ritual magic, puri daj – your mother – sent me backwards through time in order to protect me while I learned the things I needed in order to survive."

The suspicion roiled inside, but still Severus couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it. He needed to hear it spoken aloud. He needed her to tell him. He stared at her silently, waiting.

"Sev, it _killed_ me to leave. All these years, waiting, missing you, knowing that you didn't miss me – couldn't miss me… Merlin! And now, here we are, and I can tell you don't believe me. Or don't want to. Gods, I've missed you so much!"

"Say it." Severus kept his voice steady. All he really wanted to do was move around the table and wrap his lover up in his arms, to say that it would be alright. But something held him back. He needed to hear it.

"Sev…"

"Say it."


	12. The Easy Part

Draco smiled across the table at Ginny. She was too engrossed in her book to notice, but that was alright. It gave him time to admire the way her hair gleamed in the sunlight, streaks of gold pulled out of a fire-red that blazed around her face like a halo. He loved the way her perfect teeth teased her lower lip as she concentrated. Every few minutes her tongue would peak out of the corner of her mouth like a little squirrel inspecting its territory. Her nose scrunched up, pulling at her eyes and transforming her visage into the perfect picture of deep thought.

She looked up suddenly, and he froze, captured by her beautiful brown eyes. They were wide and innocent, missing the usual traces of mischief that could so often be found in her face.

"Your eyes are like bright stars, shining amidst the darkness that was my life 'til now, oh beauteous one! That you sit here with me brings tears to my eyes of both wonder and terror – wonder that you could love me as I love you and heart-gripping terror that I might fail in your sight –"

"Oooh, poetry! That's a new one." Ginny grinned and Draco felt his face heat up. "Ah, don't be embarrassed. I think it's sweet. Or I would if I wasn't knee deep in the bloody History of Magic… Which, I might add, _you_ are supposed to be helping me with."

"Sorry," he mumbled, cheeks still pink as he turned back to his own book. He waited for a few seconds before looking up again, straight into Ginny's smiling eyes. "Er," he said, immediately dropping his head back to the book. He shifted so that it was obvious he really intended to go back to work.

"Never mind, Draco. I'm ready for a break anyway."

"Good!" He immediately pushed away from the table and stood. She laughed as he walked around the table to help her up.

"You really aren't enjoying this, are you?" She asked as they walked toward the door of Sev's library.

"Not really," he admitted. "I mean, the research doesn't bug me at all. It's just… It's such a nice day! I've got this pretty girl over and no parental units in sight. Why do we have to spend this prime time sitting around in a library when we could be making out under a tree?"

"That's pretty bold of you, mister. Who says your 'pretty girl' wouldn't rather be researching?"

"Ouch," said Draco. Ginny laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist. He hugged her shoulders, enjoying the way she moved beside him. He could get lost in moments like these.

"What was that before," she asked suddenly, "that sudden bout of poetry?"

"Nothing really," he shrugged. "Something came over me, that's all."

"No, really! I never knew you were a poet!"

"I'm not. I just… I like words. Blaise gave me a book of poetry last year for my birthday and I liked the way the language felt in my mouth."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I like the way it feels in your mouth too," said Ginny. She looked up at him from the corners of her eyes and smiled. He wondered if she was being shy or coy. Either way, his heart sped up and his arm around her shoulders became slightly more possessive. She laughed again. Merlin he loved her laugh!

"Let's say we take a walk, milady, out in the fresh air. Researching Romani bonds and traditions has taken up enough of our week already. I'm sure Sev and Harry can find answers just as well as we can."

* * *

Bill glared at the arrival platform. He was getting a new partner today and he was less than thrilled about it. After spending a year cursebreaking with Arisha, anyone else would be a let down. He'd come to rely on his friend's weird abilities and good instincts. While he'd known this moment was coming for months, it didn't make it any easier. Especially not when Ari had left him with a bombshell of a secret identity upon their parting.

He still hadn't decided how he felt about that whole situation. He'd forgiven Ari-Harry, of course. Her – his – actions made sense in context, even if they did leave Bill feeling confused and gender-disoriented. What he wasn't sure about was his feelings for Arisha. Harry was a brother, that much was crystal clear. But Arisha? Ari was another matter entirely. Bill had fallen head-over-heals in love with her. Even after he'd found out she was engaged, she was still his ideal woman. So how did he deal with his ideal woman being his brother?

He also needed to figure out how to address Ari in his mind. Was it Ari or Harry? He or She? These things were relatively small in the grand scheme of Bill's existence, but they were nonetheless extremely important to the cursebreaker right now. He tugged on his vest, absently straightening his collar and running his hand through his annoyingly short hair. He shouldn't've let Ari talk him into cutting it, even if it did make Mom happy.

There was a loud pop in the middle of the platform and Bill got his first look at his new partner.

"Hello Bill! Long time no see."

Bill groaned. Wasn't this just his luck.

* * *

"You left them alone together?" Nadia asked, face tight with worry.

"They're fine, Mother. No one will think any less of Ari, and Severus would never harm her."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Tatoya. I… I don't know my son, but I knew the man who raised him. I have no doubt that Ari is _physically_ safe from harm. Emotionally, however…"

Tatoya grimaced. "This had to happen at some point mother. It might as well be here and now."

"I just pray that neither of them does anything rash."

* * *

"Say it." Sev's voice was cold and his eyes were distant.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. With a trembling hand he reached up and pulled back his bangs, exposing the telltale scar. Eyes still closed he whispered the truth.

"I am Harry Potter and Arisha Soravia."

Then he waited, eyelids squeezed so tightly it hurt. The silence filled Tatoya's wagon and threatened to smother him in his self-imposed darkness. What did Severus think? What was Severus doing? Did Severus still love him? Was he forgiven? All he needed to do was open his eyes to find out, to read Severus's emotions – but he couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear it if Severus hated him or was disgusted by him. All he could do was keep his eyes closed and hope for the best.

The actions of the ostrich suddenly made complete sense to Harry, and he began meditating on the virtues of burying your head in the sand and waiting for the danger to pass. Anything to distract him from Severus's inevitable rejection. His imagination conjured up Ron's face when he found out that Harry was gay. It was only too easy to imagine Severus Snape's face twisted into the same expression of horrified disgust.

Seconds ticked by, each feeling like an hour. Then Severus heaved a sigh and Harry opened one eye. Sev sat with his head in his hands, elbows propped up against the small wooden table. He looked tired. Harry blinked both eyes open and bit his lip.

"What can I do?" he whispered. "Please tell me what to say to make things okay between us."

Sev snorted, then gave a strange, throaty chuckle. "Merlin's beard, Harry! You frightened me half to death! What did you think you were doing?" He kept his head down, but his fingers tugged at his hair then scrubbed his face. He sounded… amused? Relieved? Harry couldn't quite tell, but it was a better response than he'd dared to hope for.

Harry gave a weak chuckle of his own. "I… it just sort of… happened, to be honest. I mean, one minute I was talking with the Headmaster about a letter, and the next minute some old lady was telling me that I was a friggin' Blood Bonded! That the only way to hide my identity was to dress up like a girl and travel into the past with never a fair-thee-well. I know I had a choice, Sev, I'm not trying to make excuses, but… This was the only choice that left me any real hope of surviving the war. Not to mention I had already made it - time-space continuum and all that."

"You could've told me when we – when I first met your… alter-ego." Sev finally looked up and Harry winced at the lost expression on his fiancee's face.

"I couldn't. Sev, please understand that _three years_ have gone by for me. This is a much bigger deal than just putting on a dress and pulling one over on you."

"I know. But it's a lot to take in." Sev grimaced. "Do you have _any idea_ how odd it is to be seeing you as a _woman_? You are very," a trace of the old disdain flashed across his face, "convincing."

Harry's chest tightened and for a moment it hurt to breathe. He could feel his heart racing. This is what he'd been afraid of – disdain and rejection.

"Sev… Look at me, Sev."

Their eyes met. "Leglimens," Harry said, peering deeply into Severus's eyes. He saw a whirl of images colored with fear, love, confusion, anger, and sorrow. Sev didn't block him out, but there was too much going on for Harry to get any clear reading. He released Sev's eyes and looked down at his hands.

"My turn," said Sev, reaching across the table to cover Harry's hands with one of his own. The touch came as a relief, awkward as it was, and Harry looked up into the black eyes of the man he'd been missing for three years. He opened his mind and carefully took control of Sev's wordless mental probe.

* * *

Severus let out a long breath as he leaned back in the chair. He'd allowed Harry to guide his mind through the last three years, only taking control occasionally to probe remembered emotions. He knew his lover had missed him, had been faithful to him, had done what needed to be done. There were feelings of regret and loss mixed up with fond memories of family, kumpania, and Egypt.

It was the happiness that both comforted and hurt Severus the most. He knew that Harry had always wanted family, had always wanted to be accepted for who he was rather than what he represented. Sev had thought that he and Draco would be the family Harry craved, but he could see how the kumpania had already taken that place in Harry's heart. Harry loved the kumpania with a deep, irrevocable dedication. While he was glad that Harry was happy, he hated that he hadn't been the one who could give that to his partner.

The silence stretched out once more as Sev absorbed what he had seen. Three years really had gone by for… Arisha. At the beginning "Arisha" had been a role assumed by Harry for the sake of fitting in. Now, however, Arisha was as much Harry as, well, Harry.

"Well. This will take some adjusting," admitted Severus. "For both of us. I don't think we should downplay the importance of the last three years in shaping you. In your memories I've seen you grow. You are not the same as when you left. Your biggest challenge, I fear, is that everyone – including me – will want to treat you as though no time has passed."

"That's the easy part," argued Harry. "If you still love me, then everything else is the easy part."

Sev looked at him long and hard. If that was how Harry felt after three years of separation, then so be it.

"Brat," said Sev. "Of course I still love you."

He opened his arms, and with a relieved sigh, Harry slid around the table. Sev folded him up tightly and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. So much for the hard part.

* * *

Avery slammed the book shut and threw it across the room with a snarl. He'd never felt the need to research the Roms before, so this was the first time he'd encountered the maddening lack of information available about their families, skills, and traditions. Oh, he'd found the expected drivel about dancing wild and naked around roaring bonfires, stealing Muggle children, and making secret pacts with creature clans. What he couldn't find was _real_ information.

He had less than three days until the next full meeting with the Dark Lord. He'd spent the past week scouring bookstores for information about the Roms and had come up with almost nothing. Wizards just weren't able to get access to the kind of records that would be useful in determining who Snape's bride was and what she might be capable of contributing to The Cause.

He'd even tried asking around, although that was difficult without giving away information. This Soravia woman hadn't made waves in the Dark Families. In fact, he was the only one who seemed to know her name. It was becoming increasingly frustrating. Still, he didn't have any other useful information to pursue for the Dark Lord, and there was no way he was showing up to a meeting empty handed. He would just have to keep digging.

* * *

"I wonder how the Professor's field trip is going," said Ginny as she leaned into Draco's shoulder. They were sitting under one of the old willow trees that grew behind the Manor, enjoying the play of the sun through the branches.

Ginny was relieved to be outdoors. She got good grades in school, but she didn't care much for studying or libraries. As much as she wanted to look out for Harry, she just couldn't stand being inside for so long. What she really needed was a good fly, but with Harry missing and the Professor on an errand there was no one to lend her a broom except Draco – and flying alone wasn't nearly as fun.

This was well enough, though. Being lazy had its own perks. Draco's shoulder, for example, was turning out to be a very desirable pillow.

"Good, I hope. If he doesn't get good news soon, he's going to explode."

Ginny hoped that was metaphorical. Then she hoped it was an exaggeration. She knew from experience that the Professor was capable of some extremely colorful explosions and she really didn't want to be caught in one.

"We should probably at least pretend to be working," she said after a few long minutes floated by. She made no move to stand.

"Yeah," agreed Draco, adjusting their position against the tree. Ginny smiled to herself.

"Well, we should at least keep an eye on the path."

"Hmmm," murmured Draco in what might've been agreement.

Ginny lifted her head to inspect the path leading from the aparation point to the back door. It was empty. She narrowed her eyes. Something was… not right. No, that wasn't it. She concentrated on the feeling. It wasn't that something was _wrong_, per se, more like something was coming. No, not that either. Suddenly her stomach did a back flip and she lost her focus as she gagged.

"Ginny!" Draco grabbed her arms to help support her as she struggled to sit up. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine," she gasped, waving away his concern. "I think the Professor is back."

"How…?" Draco trailed off, but Ginny shook her head.

"Dunno," she said. "I just think we need to get down to the path."

"Okay."

Ginny was grateful that Draco didn't press the matter. He just helped her to her feet and walked with her across the lawn toward the back of the Manor. Halfway there, she noticed two people walking down the path toward them. She tugged Draco to a stop.

"Professor?" she called hesitantly, knowing that it was, but not understanding how she'd known he was coming.

The taller figure raised his hand in greeting, and soon her eyes could pick out details confirming his identity. The other person appeared to be Arisha Soravia, but Ginny wasn't going to take any chances and yell it out. Their paths would intersect soon enough. She tugged Draco back into a walk. This was sure to be interesting.

Absently she reached up to play with the necklace her mother had given her for her birthday. It felt warm in her fingers.

* * *

Harry looked up as he heard Ginny's call. He could barely make out two people standing on the other end of the lawn. Next to him, Severus raised a hand in greeting, too dignified to call out a response. Draco and Ginny began walking toward the path on an intercepting course, and Harry felt his heart speed up. He was still dressed like Ari.

He'd known that eventually he was going to have to come clean to Draco and Ginny – there was no way they wouldn't notice that something major had changed. Still, he'd expected to have time to change into "Harry" clothes and explain things to them with a persona they recognized. Ari would be easier to accept from Harry, or so he figured. Meeting them like this was not in his game plan.

"Calm down," said Sev, walking beside him. "They won't bite your head off. In fact, they will probably find this entire situation _funny_." He said 'funny' as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, and Harry had to smile.

"You're probably right. Still, I can't help feeling nervous. Even _you_ can't look at me straight right now, and _you_ love me."

"So do they," said Sev tartly. "And give me _some_ credit, Harry – you told me a very big piece of news and I've had less than an hour to try and assimilate it."

"I know," Harry grimaced. "I'm just on edge. Sorry. I know this is a lot for you too."

"Idiot," said Sev, reaching out to put his arm around Harry's shoulders. The intimate gesture sent a shock through Harry's system and he promptly forgot to be nervous. He'd missed this, missed _Sev_, more than he could say.

They met Draco and Ginny thirty feet from the door. Ginny eyed him curiously, and it was all Harry could do not to throw his arms around her neck and squeeze.

"Miss Soravia," Draco greeted, smiling pleasantly. "What a pleasant surprise. I didn't realize Severus planned to meet with you."

"He didn't," said Harry, trying to smile. "But circumstances being what they are…" he trailed off, knowing that 'circumstances' was suitably vague and not wanting to complicate matters by lying to his friends right when he was about to reveal the truth.

"Well, it's nice to see you again," said Ginny, smiling. "After everything I've heard about you from Bill, I feel like I know you."

Harry grinned. He couldn't help it. He remembered Ginny's opinion of "Bills' new best friend," and it wasn't quite as impressed with Ari as she made herself sound.

"Likewise," he said, absently running his hand through his hair. Draco's eyes were wide and staring, but he only gestured for Harry and Sev to precede them into the house.

* * *

An hour later the four of them were sitting around the kitchen table in awkward silence with mugs of hot chocolate and a little plate of cookies.

"Let me get this straight," said Ginny, breaking the silence. "You traveled through time, lived with gypsies, learned how to sing, and then partnered with my brother to break curses in Egypt – in a dress, because you could."

"Yeah," Harry said with a shrug, "that about sums it up. But don't let anyone catch you saying learning to sing and being Blood Bonded are the same. People get touchy about that kind of thing."

"I see," said Ginny. She fell silent again.

"So we weren't actually lying, back there in the restaurant," Draco said after another awkward pause. "I mean, we were, but it was accidentally true after all."

"Yep," said Harry. "Which just goes to show that sometimes things work out well for the good guys, too."

"Goes to show," agreed Draco absently.

"So, what happens now?" Ginny asked hesitantly, looking around at the other three.

Harry sighed. He'd been trying to work that out himself. To be Arisha Soravia was to be with Severus in public and in the kumpania. It meant being able to go to Diagon Ally without bodyguards and a weird disguise. He'd be able to be himself fully and completely – albeit fully himself in a dress. Still, it wasn't weird to him anymore. To be Harry Potter meant falling back into old patterns of concealment and lies. It meant being with Severus in private, but never in public.

"I don't know yet. Harry Potter can't disappear, at least, not more than is expected of someone in hiding. Being Arisha just seems so… smart. No one suspects her of being Harry, she can be seen with Sev in public, and…" he trailed off. He wanted to point out that Arisha could actually marry Sev and not get them both killed because of it, but he didn't want to bring it up without talking to Sev in private first.

"I think you should be Arisha," said Draco finally. "You're right, Harry – being Arisha is the smart choice. The Slytherin choice, if you will. You can be Harry at home, but there's too much at stake to give up an exquisitely concocted disguise – which, by the way, couldn't _possibly_ be Harry Potter since she was in Egypt while he was at Hogwarts."

"I agree," said Ginny. Suddenly she grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've always wanted a sister anyways. We can plait each other's hair, do our nails together, disguise fashion trends…" she trailed off, obviously enjoying Harry's discomfort. Harry made a face, but he was willing to let her have her fun at his expense. For now, at least.

"Merlin forbid," muttered Severus. "Miss Weasley, we aren't discussing Harry actually _becoming _a girl, you know."

"I know," said Ginny, smiling. "But a girl can dream."

Sev sighed and met Harry's eyes. "I agree with the others – staying Arisha makes you safer and gives us all some additional freedom. I hope you decide to be Harry at home, but this is the best option. At least until the Dark Lord is defeated."

Harry nodded. "Okay then. I'm Arisha Soravia in public. Ari for short. My uncle arranged our betrothal through your mother with the hopes of bringing you back into the kumpania. Barring that, they hope that strengthening their ties with the Wizarding World at this time will help them survive as a people. Politically, Ari is neutral. She has given her binding oath to the Roms that she will stay out of the war – if she disobeys and becomes personally entangled in one side or the other, she will be killed by her family."

"That's a little extreme," Draco argued, frowning. "Even the diehard neutral families aren't going to kill one of their kids because he or she gets involved in the war."

"The Romani would," said Severus, supporting Harry's story. "They take their neutrality very seriously. While I can be Rom by blood _and_ politically involved, Arisha doesn't have that luxury because she is a blood bride and, as far as anyone else knows, a full-blooded Romani witch."

"And that makes a difference why?" asked Draco. Harry smiled at the look of intense concentration on his friend's face. He'd almost forgotten Draco's passion for obscure politics and history.

"Nuances of association," said Sev. Harry watched the older man toy with the bracelet he'd given him – was it only last month? This time travel stuff would take getting used to. "It all boils down to which group you ultimately claim allegiance to. I am a wizard, even though my mother was a Rom. Arisha is a Rom, even though is choosing to marry a wizard."

"Makes sense," said Draco. "Hopefully the others will see it that way."

Harry grimaced. "And what are we telling Dumbledore and the Order?"

"The truth?" asked Ginny. The boys turned to look at her and she shrugged. "It's a thought. Everyone knows that Harry and the Professor are an item, so unless they suddenly break up and the Professor switches his orientation and marries a girl who looks _amazingly_ like Harry Potter…"

"We could say that Harry is living in Sev's house and that Arisha is here as a cover story," said Draco. "It's even almost true."

"They won't believe it," argued Harry. "Or they'll want to meet with both of us and find out something's up that way. No, I'm with Ginny on this one – we need to come up with some version of the truth to share with them."

"We can't tell anyone about your special gifts," said Sev immediately. "We can't risk that leaking out or there's no way that Arisha will be able to maintain neutrality. We'll say she's got some other Romani Gift that's likely to breed favorably with my Gift. That would be a believable reason for our betrothal."

Harry listened and occasionally contributed as they continued to discuss his fate. He couldn't help but be amazed and grateful that his family had taken his news so well. Draco and Ginny had hardly even blinked – they'd just started discussing the future and how to make the most of the situation. Later he would make sure to tease Ginny for being such a closet Slytherin. For now, he simply enjoyed being back with the people he loved most in the world.

Sev was right, of course, it would be hard for all of them to establish a new pattern of being together. Harry had changed in the past three years. It would take them all a while to get used to those changes. But for now, life was good.


	13. Integration

Ginny fidgeted with the braid, desperately trying to ignore Ron's inquisitive stare. When she met his eyes by accident, he frowned and opened his mouth to ask what would probably be a rude question. She sent him what she hoped was a politely distant smile, then stood up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Why had she agreed to this, anyway? Never mind that it had been her idea…

"You owe me," she hissed into Harry's ear. He turned and smiled at her, eyes twinkling as he inspected her disguise.

"I do make a convincing girl," he grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets and obviously enjoying himself way too much. "Calm down and don't look overly familiar with me. I only just met Arisha a few days ago and we're supposed to be romantic rivals."

Ginny made a face, then glanced around to make sure that she and Harry were mostly alone. Her mum was the only one in the kitchen of Grimauld Place, and she was too focused on dicing vegetables to notice the murmured conversation taking place near the doorway.

"How do you move in these things?" Ginny complained quietly for the umpteenth time, fidgeting with her voluminous petticoats. "I mean, I know all about moving in dresses and robes and stuff, but this? Ugh."

"Really Arisha," said Harry with an incredibly irritating smirk, "it can't be _that_ bad. Besides, you look very pretty in that outfit. I think yellow suits me."

Ginny snorted inelegantly, but decided not to continue that line of conversation. She'd been complaining since she'd first taken the Polyjuice prior to coming to the Order meeting. They'd decided against sharing the _real_ truth for the time being. It was safer this way, and the only real concern originally had been Harry and Arisha needing to be in the same place at the same time. No one in the Order except Harry and Bill knew how Arisha _should_ act, so having Ginny play Harry play Arisha shouldn't have been too difficult.

Ginny hadn't counted on how hard it was to act like a stranger to her friends and family.

"Hey," said Draco, manifesting at her elbow. She gave him a smile that was probably a little warmer than it should be. He grimaced. "That's weird," he murmured. "Hex, I think Ari's making eyes at me. Is that normal?"

"Not really," said Harry, voice equally soft to avoid drawing attention. "And I'm pretty sure she's too old for you."

Ginny giggled as Draco's eyes narrowed. Harry had admitted to enjoying the fact that he was finally older than his 'stepson' and took every available opportunity to call attention to their new age difference.

"You're right," said Draco, eyes still narrowed. "Her face is getting wrinkles, and that is definitely a gray hair. Poor ancient Arisha…"

Ginny swatted him in the chest. She might be wearing Harry's face, but she was still a lady! There was never a good reason to insult a lady or comment on her age, even if her male doppelganger brought it up first.

"Dumbledore is here," called a voice from the living room. The three friends straightened and separated slightly as people began converging on the kitchen. Draco and Harry made their way toward adjacent seats, elbowing each other as they walked. Ginny hid a smile behind her hand as they bickered softly. She glanced over at Ron, who seemed unsure of whether or not he should sit on Harry's other side. Ginny felt bad for him, and was glad when Hermione appeared to push him toward his desired seat. They settled down and joined Draco and Harry's conversation.

Professor Snape hadn't shown up yet, which Ginny found less than reassuring. He'd promised to join them as soon as he'd finished brewing a potion for the Dark Lord. That had been half an hour ago, and Ginny was starting to feel extremely awkward. As Arisha, she didn't know anyone except Harry and Draco. Bill hadn't come for this meeting, for which she was incredibly grateful. The last thing she wanted to do was actively pretend to be her big brother's unrequited love interest.

She wasn't enjoying her first Order of the Phoenix meeting half as much as she had hoped. Ron wasn't the only one staring inquisitively, and some people were definitely noticing her close resemblance to Harry judging by the curious glances between the two of them. Especially Moody, whose enchanted eye was darting back and forth like a caged Cornish pixie.

Dumbledore walked in and settled in the seat at the head of the table, leaving Ginny the only one standing awkwardly by the door. The Headmaster turned and smiled at her, expression mildly curious. He'd been informed that someone new would be arriving, but as far as Ginny knew, he hadn't been given many details.

"Come in, come in my dear!" He motioned her forward and gestured toward one of two empty seats at the table. She chose the one next to Tonks, leaving the chair next to Draco empty. She didn't think she was a good enough actor to handle sitting next to her boyfriend right now.

"Well, we're all here except Severus," Dumbledore announced, smiling around the table. "I hereby call this meeting to order."

A sudden shriek from the entryway heralded Professor Snape's timely arrival, and Ginny smiled as he cursed at Mrs. Black's portrait. His curses were always the most authentic. She turned her attention back to the Order meeting just in time to catch Dumbledore's speculative glance. He smiled politely and looked away, leaving Ginny with a sinking feeling in her gut.

Professor Snape swept through the doorway and made a beeline for the only empty seat. He caught her eye as he settled and gave her a respectful nod. No, gave _Arisha_ a respectful nod. _Arisha_ nodded her head in return, face mostly neutral. Inside, Ginny suppressed a nervous giggle. She had to keep stressing her role. No one would be giving her any acting awards, that was for sure! She couldn't stop the smile from sneaking onto her face, and she ducked her head.

"Now that Professor Snape is here," said Dumbledore, gamely picking up the thread of the Order meeting once again, "let's begin with reports on our efforts in the Ministry."

Ginny's heart sped up as Dumbledore began moving through the agenda. So far she had been just another face, albeit the only _new_ face. Soon she would get a name, a role, a justification for being in the room. I am Arisha Soravia, she reminded herself. I am Arisha Soravia. I am NOT Ginny Weasley. I am marrying Severus Snape. I call him Severus. Not Professor, not sir, not Snape. Severus. Because I am Arisha.

Her mantra ran in the background of her thoughts as her father – no, as Arthur Weasley – leaned forward to give a brief report on the Ministry's handling of recent attacks on Muggles. Then Moody reported on suspected 'troop movements' and Shaklebolt identified yet another family that had fallen victim to a Death Eater attack. Then it was the Professor's turn, and Ginny's stomach did a back flip.

"I have finished brewing the Strength Elixir for the Dark Lord," he announced, grimacing as if the admission was somehow painful. "I will give it to him at the next meeting. It will function exactly as it should, and the Dark Lord will gain a slight physical advantage over normal humans."

"So?" asked Ron, exercising his right as an Order member to question proceedings. "What does that accomplish?" Ginny was wondering the same thing, but couldn't decide whether to be proud of her brother's bravery in admitting ignorance or embarrassed that they both didn't understand the Dark Lord's motivation.

The Professor sneered and Ginny wished she was sitting closer so she could kick him. He needed to behave! Luckily Draco interceded.

"Physical strength and magical stamina are closely related, according to Charliana Thurgood's _Magical Theories of Anatomy_," Draco began. "The more physically powerful the wizard, the stronger the spells he can cast. Magic requires a vessel that is capable of holding it. Most wizards rely on their physical bodies and their wands to channel the magic. Some," here he nodded respectfully toward Ginny-Arisha, "can also channel their magic through sound or movement. By drinking the Strength Elixir, the Dark Lord is increasing his ability to cast stronger spells over a longer period of time."

"Thank you Professor Malfoy," said Hermione tartly, though Ginny could tell she was quite impressed. She would probably ask to borrow the book as soon as the meeting was finished. Ginny hoped Draco was prepared for the inevitable debates that would ensue.

"Yes, thank you Draco," said Snape, sounding somewhat less impressed. He turned back to Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, I have to give it to him. I can't alter it and I can't risk refusing something so… relatively harmless."

"That's quite alright, my boy. You are his Potions Master." Dumbledore smiled while Snape grimaced. Ginny took a little breath. Here it came…

"I think this would be an excellent time to introduce our newest guest," Dumbledore smiled at her. "Severus?"

Ginny met Harry's encouraging eyes. He _really_ owed her for this. She stood up, tilting her chin to approximate Ari's self-assured stance. Down the table, Severus also stood.

"This," Severus announced, "is Arisha Soravia. My Blood Bride." There were gasps around the table, and more than a few Order members were staring between Ginny and Harry. Even Dumbledore looked shocked. Ginny squared her shoulders and arched her eyebrows.

"Arisha just finished a year's apprenticeship in Egypt, cursebreaking with William Weasley," continued Professor Snape, ignoring the reactions around the table. "She is a Romani Bard and will remain officially neutral throughout the war. This is the last Order meeting she will be attending. Nevertheless, you may consider her sympathetic to our cause. I would," he hesitated, "appreciate it if you would extend her every courtesy. She did not ask to be in this situation."

"What about Harry?" Fred demanded.

"Yeah," agreed George. "Since when were you engaged to another woman?"

Ginny could've kissed the twins. She swallowed her smile at their matching tones of outrage.

"Not to imply you're a woman, Harry," added Fred in a completely different tone.

"No offense," agreed George.

Harry smiled. "None taken," he said.

"Still, Professor," said Fred, outrage back in his voice, "it seems to me that you're breaking our little brother's heart."

"And we can't have that," George finished, an edge in his voice that caused even Severus to look a bit worried.

Ginny was suddenly grateful that Lupin was off on a mission with the werewolves. They were going to have to tell him the truth – he'd be able to spot Arisha as Harry – and Ginny had no idea how good of an actor he was. He would be obliged to raise a fuss too, even if it were just for pretend.

"I'm fine," said Harry, shrugging. Ginny wasn't at a great angle to see the twins, but she could imagine their looks of frustrated concern. Those looks had been focused on her often enough in the past.

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione, peering around Ron. Ron leaned back to give her better access. He was being suspiciously quiet.

"Quite," said Harry. A strange expression crossed his face. "And why is everyone focusing on _me_ like this? Severus is the one getting married."

"But he's your boyfriend!" said Tonks, sounding slightly dismayed. Ginny turned her head to look at the witch next to her. Tonks was studiously ignoring her.

"Well, yeah," said Harry. "But Arisha is his blood bride. We can't do much about this situation except make the best of it."

"That's very mature, Harry," said Dumbledore. He was frowning.

"I'll still be staying with Sev and Dray and Ari," said Harry, smiling. His eyes, however were hard as he met the eyes of each Order member in turn.

"Ari?" Dumbledore looked surprised.

"My puri daj calls me that," said Ginny, speaking up for the first time and bringing all eyes to her. She smiled at Harry. "I want Severus and his friends to be comfortable with me."

"And you, Miss Soravia? Is this arrangement pleasing to you?"

Ginny was surprised by Professor McGonagall's concern for an intruding stranger, then was surprised by her own surprise.

"It is well enough," she said after a second's hesitation. "I always knew I would be going into an arranged marriage. I am lucky the bond will be with a good man." She smiled shyly, desperately trying to think of what Harry would say in this situation. "If I must share him, well, at least it is with a man I can be friends with."

Harry beamed, and Ginny smiled in relief.

"You know," mused Charlie, "you two look remarkably alike. Side by side I could imagine that you're twins."

"Ah," said Ginny, not quite sure how to respond to that one and panicking a little inside. Damn Charlie anyways!

"Turns out we're not so distantly related," Harry broke in, smiling easily. "My mum's mum and my dad's dad's mum and my dad's mum's mum's dad and my dad's mum's dad's mum were Roms from the same family group as Ari. We're cousins several times over."

"Go stand over by her," Charlie insisted.

Ginny closed her eyes. It would be all over. They would have to tell the truth, and everyone would be mad at them, and Harry and Sev would lose out on living together happily after the war. But instead of protesting, Harry laughed and walked around the table to join her.

"If I didn't know better," said Professor McGonagall, inspecting them, "I would say that Miss Soravia is Harry's long lost sister."

Ginny opened her eyes. Hermione was staring at her, and Ginny blinked a few times. It wasn't hard to look uncomfortable under the scrutiny. Arisha didn't know these people, after all. All she knew was that she was standing next to a man who, by an accident of genetics, looked very similar to her.

"Miss Soravia's skin is much darker, though," said Hermione decisively. "Harry couldn't tan even if he stood in the sun for a month. I assume that comes from your gypsy heritage?"

Ginny decided that Arisha wouldn't take offense at being called a gypsy, and Harry would have to live with that decision. "Yes," she said.

"Well," said Harry, "this is fun and all, but can we get back to the meeting?"

Amazingly, there were no further questions and the meeting proceeded. With nothing to contribute, Ginny was left to ponder how easily everyone accepted the coincidence of Arisha and Harry. It amazed her that no one made the connection that they might be the same person. Really, had they never heard of Polyjuice? It was the first time Ginny had been made aware of the way magic and common sense sometimes cancelled each other out.

* * *

"That was awful," Ginny groaned as she flopped down on the couch, safe in Snape Manor.

"What, having to stand up to pee?" Draco teased. He caught the cushion Ginny threw at his chest and fluffed it up before returning it to the couch.

"No, doofus," said Ginny. "Pretending to be Harry pretending to be Arisha in front of everyone!"

"Harry doesn't pretend to be Arisha," said Harry, joining Ginny on the couch. "Harry _is_ Arisha."

"Third person?" inquired Severus, brushing the soot off his robes as he stood next to the fireplace. "Maybe you're finding this a little harder to take than you thought."

"Well," Harry trailed off, glancing at Ginny. "It is _really_ weird from this perspective."

"Tell me about it," grumbled Draco. "My girlfriend is dressed up like my best mate in a dress. _And_ keeps making come-hither eyes at me, even though she has a penis."

"Stop being crude," said Severus before Ginny could say anything. She sniffed and turned away from Draco only to find Harry staring at her with an odd expression.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

"What?" she asked again, intrigued by his slight blush.

"I'm just…"

"For the love of," grumbled Severus, throwing his hands in the air. "Teenagers!"


End file.
